If I Didn't Care
by Cressida Isolde
Summary: A series of vignettes focusing on the Courier and her followers, and what she must do to save the people and the city she loves. F!Courier/Boone. Eventually.
1. If I Didn't Care

Boone and the Courier staggered up the slope from Vault 34.

"Fuck," said the Courier. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

She stumbled towards the truck.

"Not that way," Boone said. "The truck-" he broke into a coughing fit. "The truck's leaking nuclear waste."

She tripped and fell in her attempt to change directions, then, on hands and knees, threw up. She clambered over the pile of vomit, finally taking shelter under an overhanging rock.

"You okay?" she asked.

Boone sat down heavily next to her. He looked at his hands.

"I feel... prickly. My arms. My face."

"Shit, that's bad. Sorry for dragging you down there for so long."

She reached into her pack, digging out RadAway, a handful of surgical tubes, and needles. She grasped Boone's arm, tying one tube around his upper arm, then sliding a needle into the vein. She hooked up the RadAway, and placed it carefully on a rock above them.

She did the same for herself, albeit clumsily and one handed. She sat back against the cool stone, exhausted.

"I didn't know it was going to be so fucking..." she trailed off.

"You don't need to apologise. I said I'd follow you, I'm following you."

"Yeah, that's why I fucking feel responsible."

"My life is my responsibility, not yours."

The Courier didn't know what to say to that, so she closed her eyes, welcoming the familiar burn of RadAway through her veins.

"What the fuck is your first name?" She found it hard to stay silent for long.

"Why?"

She ignored the question.

"Why the fuck don't I know your first name yet?"

"I don't know your last name," Boone said, mildly.

"You and me both, buddy. I keep thinking Shepard, but that doesn't feel quite right. Maybe it's what my parents did. Or my tribe." She laughed. "I got no fucking clue."

There was silence.

"It's Craig. Don't use it."

"Why not?"

More silence. The Courier noticed that Boone's bag of RadAway had run out, so she ripped the tube out and attached another bag.

"It's what Carla called me. It's not-" he paused. "It's not that she was and always will be the only one to say it, but... I can remember the way she said it. I don't want anyone else's voice to... Replace that."

The Courier bit her lip. The way Boone talked about his wife made her feel a bit sick at the thought of his pain. It was too great for her to comprehend.

She nodded, instead, and turned her attention to her new prize. The sniper rifle she'd found in the Vault's armory was huge and black and heavy. She touched it reverently.

"You know how to use that?" She couldn't see Boone's eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Uh. I'm not sure. Maybe."

She held the scope up to her eye. It was so far away! She could see a Gecko down on the plains. She tightened her finger on the trigger. The shot was loud in her ear, and she dropped the rifle in surprise. It fired again, the bullet hitting the ground in front of them.

"You need me to show you some things?" Boone asked patiently.

"Fuck off," she snarled, then looked away. "Yes. Damn it."

"Right." He plucked the needle out of his arm, the second bag finished. "Stand up."

She stood, holding the rifle expectantly.

"Now, lift the gun to your eye. Keep your finger off the trigger for now. Elbow out a bit more." He adjusted her arms. "It's easier if you're crouching or kneeling, or even lying down."

The barrel was beginning to waver.

"You gotta keep that as straight as possible. Lean it on something if you have to."

"Now, pick a target. A plant or something, not an animal."

The Courier's arms were aching. "This is-" she began, but Boone shushed her.

"Concentrate. You need to be patient. Take a breath, hold it, and when you're ready to let it out, squeeze the trigger. Gently"

She was more prepared for the noise this time, but the shot was wide.

"Did you get it? I can't see what you're aiming at from here."

"Yep!"

"Really?"

"No."

"It's okay," he said. "No one's an expert the first time they pick up a rifle."

The Courier had the feeling he'd explained this to others before.

"You ever let Carla shoot anything?"

She got a rare laugh out of him.

"Nope. Not interested."

"Smart girl," said the Courier, putting down the rifle. "I'll practice later. Let's just fucking get back to the hotel. I want a fucking bath, wash the radioactive dust off."

"No problem," replied Boone, falling into step behind her.


	2. More Than Words Can Say

Hey, thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate it.

* * *

The Courier crawled, elbows and knees, under the barrier on the ridge overlooking the town of Nelson.

"Okay, we got maybe five minutes before the ground troops make it into the northwest end of town. We're gonna make it as easy for them as possible." She paused. "...Is that okay?"

"Yeah," said Boone, looking through his scope. "Trust your judgment."

"Right. Now, uh, I got two Legion in each lookout, plus some at the gates and maybe five patrolling. Plus the hostages in the middle, which we're gonna free if possible."

"Got it."

She shook her hands out, stretched, and looked through the scope. The barrel was wavering, so she took a Steady, and then another one immediately after.

She noticed Boone looking at her.

"What?"

"Do you have a problem?"

"What? No. I just have to take two because one on its own doesn't fucking do anything anymore."

Boone was still looking at her.

"Yeah, that's a problem."

She opened her mouth to protest but he held a hand up to stop her.

"Later." He pointed to the North end of the town. "Let's start that end and work back. That way we cover the troops' entrance."

"Fine," she snapped, wriggling to face the road. She aimed carefully, but the rifle barrel dipped at the last minute and the bullet shattered a legionnaire's knee.

"Fuck." She aimed again, but this time hit him in the shoulder, the bone disintegrating in a mist of blood. Just as she was lining up for a third shot, his head exploded. She lowered the rifle angrily, but Boone was still firing.

She spat in the dust and picked a new target. This time the bullet went straight through the soldier's throat. She nodded to herself, and moved on.

Just over twenty minutes later, the town was finally cleared and the hostages freed. Boone and the Courier walked back to the camp alone.

"The doctor here could probably fix you up."

"I don't have a fucking problem."

Boone stopped, and turned to her.

"I'm serious. I've seen a lot of snipers get hooked on that. It's not pretty. Sure it feels good at the time and you can shoot a bit straighter, but six months later and you can't remember where you slept last night. Anyway, that's all. I guess you don't have to listen to me."

She looked down at the ground, and didn't speak the rest of the way to camp. When they got there, she headed straight for the medical tent.

* * *

It was late at night at the Lucky 38, and the Courier was sitting on the end of her bed pulling her boots off when she heard a quiet tap on the door.

"Yeah?" she called out.

Boone entered, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Look, I got something for you." He held out a rifle. The Courier took it, confused.

"You've got a good eye. A damn good eye. I figure your main problem is that sniper rifles are too heavy. This one's a bit lighter."

It weighed maybe a little more than half of what a normal sniper rifle would weigh. She looked at him incredulously, then peered through the scope.

"Night vision?" she exclaimed, grinning. "Where the fuck did you get this?"

"Bought it off some prospector." He shrugged. "It's silenced too. Well, goodnight."

"Thank you!" the Courier said, as he shut the door behind him. She thought he heard.


	3. If I Didn't Care, Would I Feel This Way?

"Hey," said Veronica. "So why don't you take me out to nice places no more?" She had a hand on her hip and was smiling wryly.

"What, the Strip's not exciting enough for you now?"

"Well, that's not exactly it. I mean, I've never seen anywhere like this place before. So, uh, thanks, I do actually appreciate it. I was just more getting at the fact that you seem to be stepping out a lot with Boone lately."

"So," replied the Courier. "You're what, lonely? Jealous? Want me to take you out and buy you something pretty?" She grinned.

"Well, that wasn't quite what I was getting at, but who am I to turn an invitation like that down?"

They hit the Ultraluxe.

"This place is amazing," breathed Veronica. "Look at that tailoring." She clenched her hands into excited fists. "It's like the war never happened!"

The Courier chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Let me think about that for a bit." She ordered two bottles of wine, and handed one to Veronica, along with one of the glasses she'd been given. They sat at one of the round tables surrounding the bar in the lobby.

"You much of a gambler?" she asked.

"Uh, no," replied Veronica. "My luck never seems to hold."

"You can't let that put you off," grinned the Courier. "I lost 500 chips here before I started turning a profit."

"Aren't casinos set up so the house never loses?"

"I dunno about that," the Courier checked her pocket. "I'm up, uh, ten thousand caps at the moment."

Veronica whistled. "So, can I rub you like a lucky rabbit's foot or something?"

The Courier grinned and ran her tongue over her teeth. "You're gonna get in trouble one day with a mouth like that."

She was already most of the way through her bottle of wine, but Veronica was catching up fast.

"I love how the bar's designed to look like a fountain. This place is incredible."

The Courier followed her line of sight.

"You know, I don't think I'd actually noticed that before. And they say snipers are supposed to be observant."

"Oh hey yeah, that's right! What's with you and Boone?"

The Courier looked at Veronica through narrowed eyes.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, just... you take him with you everywhere. I was talking to Cass about it and-"

"How about you don't fucking talk about me behind my back?

"Geez," Veronica said. "Touchy."

The Courier finished the last of the wine and put her glass down hard on the table.

"Fuck's sake. You've seen him shoot, right? He can shoot a fiend through the eye a motherfucking mile and a half away. Plus he's a damn good spotter, nothing gets past him."

She signalled a waiter for more wine.

"I mean, shit, I got nothing but respect for a girl who can literally punch some fucker's head off his shoulders. It's just – I don't know, I don't want to work that close up. Boone's teaching me to shoot like him. He says I got a good eye."

She opened the second bottle and poured a glass.

"Okay," said Veronica. "Like I said, just asking. Didn't mean to tread on your little rabbit toes."

The Courier grinned.

"Okay, I got an idea. Come with me."

She led Veronica through the bar, past the money changer and up to a man in a top hat behind a circular wooden counter.

She clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest.

"Excuse me," she began. Her voice was pitched higher than usual, with a vague southern twang. "We're, um, we're new in town, and my friend here was quite – well, the thing is, we don't feel like – like we're really dressed properly for a fine place such as this establishment. We just thought – those dresses that your staff are wearing are so beautiful, is there any way we could..." she let her voice trail off.

"Well, normally we would not able to accommodate your request."

The Courier's eyes grew large and imploring.

He held up a hand. "However, our records show that you are a most valued customer of ours'. Unfortunately we will not be able to supply masks, for reasons of security, but we are more than happy to allow you to purchase gowns similar to the ones worn by our staff for six hundred caps each."

Veronica clapped a hand over her mouth. The Courier wasn't entirely sure if she did it out of excitement or was trying not to laugh, but she counted out the caps.

"I believe you are the young lady currently residing in the lucky 38, is that correct? We shall send two gowns over this afternoon."

The Courier inclined her head politely in response, and with Veronica in tow, left.

As they passed the fountain outside, Veronica grasped the Courier's arm excitedly.

"Oh my God, they're gorgeous, thank you thank you thank you!"

"Yeah, well." The Courier replied. "I don't want anyone saying I don't treat my girls right, got it?"

Veronica smiled. "No ma'am!"


	4. If This Isn't Love Then Why Do I Thrill?

Why can't I stop writing? Holy shit.

* * *

"You know, I think Betsy got it backwards," the Courier announced, perching on a concrete windowsill. Her eye was to the scope of the gun Boone had given her: The Ratslayer. Not the most noble-sounding of names, but she'd found the name scratched on the stock of the rifle under what looked like a kill tally, and decided to stick with it.

"Killing chem fiends is way fucking easier than killing legionnaires. Morally, I mean. Now that I know they're just brainwashed tribals I feel kind of bad, it's like once Caesar turned his attention to them they never stood a chance, you know? I kinda wish that fucker up at Golf had just kept his fucking mouth shut. Also when you're going through their pockets afterwards you feel like shit. Well, maybe you don't. But seriously, finding half a dozen rounds and an apple just – just makes me remember how human they are. Fiends are just fucking psychopaths."

Boone looked at her. "Snipers generally aren't as chatty as you."

She flushed hotly, and turned away.

"Fuck you. We're moving out." She pointed. "We're going around behind that gas station, and we should be able to spot this Violet bitch from there. We take her out from as far away as possible, then kill her dogs and grab her head for the bounty."

She'd finally been able to get the Primm flying robot up and running, and the extra data she was able to get on far-off enemies was amazing. ED-E was surprisingly quiet when running, except for the chirrups it'd make periodically and the snatches of generically patriotic music it'd play when attacking. She was getting quite attached to him. Uh, it.

She led the three as they crawled through the dust. She'd done her best to silently eliminate as many fiends as she could, but she didn't want to risk bringing the entire fiend encampment down on their heads.

The gas station set her Geiger counter off more than she would have expected, so she motioned the others back, and they took cover behind a small rock.

"Right," she began. "I think that's her. Lots of dogs."

She watched Violet through the scope, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. She tried to remember what Boone had told her. She took a deep breath, began to let it out slowly, and let the sights settle on a point under Violet's arm. Easier to get through to the heart that way, with a smaller rifle. No breastbone to smash through.

She squeezed. The bullet flew through the dusk almost silently. Violet crumpled.

"Good work," said Boone. He sounded impressed, and she felt a thrill of pride. She nodded.

Violet's dogs were sniffing at her, confused. One howled, and the Courier felt a little bad before shooting it through the neck. Boone took three out with three quick shots, and the Courier got one more before she was satisfied that it was clear.

Cutting Violet's head off was intensely unpleasant. The Courier sawed through the flesh with the combat knife she kept in her boot, but couldn't get through the spine. Blood covered her hands and spattered her leather armour, and the sight of the gaping throat made her want to be sick.

Boone took the knife from her.

"What you do if you want the head, is you get the point of the knife right between the vertebra-" he showed her, "and then hit it with something heavy." He looked around, picked up a can of pork and beans, and tapped it precisely on the knife handle. The blade slipped between the bones, and the head rolled to the side disconcertingly. The Courier took the knife back and severed the remaining flesh and skin. She gagged, once, then wrapped the head in a scarf and stowed it in her pack.

They started back the same way. The Courier couldn't quite stop thinking about the severed head in her pack. She wondered if it was facing her or Boone. The scarf probably wouldn't stop the blood from getting all through the rest of her pack. Maybe Victor took laundry? She snickered audibly at the thought.

ED-E launched into his charging tune, and zipped ahead of her, around the corner.

"Fucking damn it," she hissed angrily. She was so close to having got them out of fiend territory without engaging.

From around the corner, she heard ED-E's tune warp and die down. She saw the flicker of flames on the building opposite.

She frowned, and stuck her head out to see down the ruined street, but instead she saw the fuel tank of an incinerator swinging towards her face, then nothing.

She woke up inside a small, dark room, kneeling on the floor. There was a burning barrel in the corner, the room's sole light source. She shook her head, muzzily. It hurt.

She tried to lift a hand to her head, but something was stopping her. Ropes. Wrists and ankles. She started to breathe rapidly and unevenly.

"Oh good, you're awake." A fiend, who she hadn't noticed, stood up. She froze. The voice was harsh and derisive.

"So, I went through your stuff while you were out. You fucking sick fuck. That was my fucking friend."

He backhanded her, hard, knocking her over. Her head cracked against the stone wall. He grasped a fistful of her hair and lifted her back upright with it. He brought his face down close to hers.

"Have you heard of me? He has." He gestured a hand towards Boone, tied kneeling in the same way that she was, hands behind his back.

Boone's sunglasses were gone, but he wouldn't make eye contact. She stifled a sob. A face from McCarran shoved its way into her memory. Dark hair. Talked himself up. Failed bounty hunter. "I value my asshole."

She couldn't stop shaking, her heart pounding in her ears and throat. She pressed her lips together hard. She wouldn't make a sound. Not until she had no choice.

"I think you have." Cook-Cook grinned. Some of his teeth were filed to sharp points. "I think I'm really fucking gonna enjoy this." He stood up and began untying the rawhide laces of his trousers.

Boone lunged forwards suddenly, punching Cook-Cook in the chest. Wait, not punching, stabbing. He dragged his hand down almost to the fiend's groin, a bright red line appearing in its wake. It spread rapidly.

Cook-Cook wheezed, dropping to his knees. His intestines slid liquidly out of the gash, and he held them in both hands incredulously. Boone stood, and gripped the fiend by his helmet. He ripped Cook-Cook's neck open, and dropped him to the floor. The Courier couldn't stop staring at the dying fiend. Blood was pulsing out of his neck in spurts and gushes, and there was a whistling sound as he tried to breathe.

Boone crouched to cut the ropes that bound her. When she was free, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and breaking into loud, uncontrollable, gasping sobs. He sat uncomfortably for a moment, then put his free arm around her.

"It's okay," he murmured quietly. "It's okay. Come on, we have to keep moving."

She couldn't stop. Tears were soaking Boone's shirt. He held her gently while she cried.

"You're safe," he said. "You were always safe."

She gulped down her sobs, and tried to control her breathing. She finally looked at the weapon he'd attacked the fiend with. It was a huge shard of glass. It was covered in blood. She took it out of his hand carefully. There were two deep scores on his palm, bleeding heavily.

She pulled back and stared, eyes wide. The cuts were almost down to the bone.

"Forget it. I'll get it taken care of when we get back."

She stared at him, scared and confused.

"We're not safe here," he said quietly. "We have to go, now."

She nodded. Her pack was on the other side of the room, along with the battered eyebot. It looked like some of the electronics had been melted by the fiend's incinerator, and she shoved it into her pack. Violet's head was sitting, half unwrapped, on a table, and she stowed that carefully as well. She picked up her combat knife, and turned to look uncertainly at Cook-Cook.

"Go on," said Boone, so she wedged the knife into the spine like he'd showed her and tapped it with a chunk of concrete. She ripped the head off and stuffed it into her pack.

"Lets move."

There were two fiends at the end of the corridor. They were laughing.

"Sounds like she enjoyed it," said one. "Do you think it's our turn yet?"

Boone took both of them out with two shots in quick succession. Their expressions didn't even change.

She hung back, silently shadowing Boone as they made their way back to McCarran.

At the entrance, he turned to face the Courier. He put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump.

"I've got your back, okay? I won't let anything happen to you."

She blinked. Nodded.

He turned without another word, and headed into the camp. She followed.


	5. What Makes My Head Go Round and Round

This went in a vastly different direction than I intended it to. Seriously.

* * *

Boone was out of commission for a few days, but that was fine because the Courier didn't really feel like going out. He'd done some tendon damage to his hand, couldn't move his fingers much for the time being. The Courier wondered how he was dealing with that. She couldn't imagine he'd take it well, but she didn't know for sure because she hadn't left her bedroom since they'd got back from McCarran. Well, that wasn't entirely true, she hadn't quite descended to the level of having to pee in a jar, although she had occasionally considered using a stealth boy to get to the bathroom and back. She had eaten most of the food she'd had on her, and was down to potato chips and gum drops.

She'd let Boone handle turning the fiend's heads over and collecting the bounties, which she felt guilty about. She should have made him go straight to the medical tent. He didn't seem to mind, although the Major gave her a strange look when she hung back behind Boone, her previous bravado gone.

ED-E was lying in a corner of the bedroom. She should probably take him back to the scrap yard for parts. She'd taken a look inside on the first day back. Most of his wiring was pretty fried, although the memory banks still seemed intact. The thing is, it didn't really feel like a high priority. Nothing did.

Victor had been knocking on her door with increasingly impatient messages from House, which she'd been ignoring.

She felt weird. Hollow, sort of. Anxious about something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe scared. And that made her angry.

There was a knock on the door. It didn't sound like metal on wood, so it wasn't Victor. She held her breath, waiting for them to knock again, but they didn't.

Fuck it. She didn't want to talk to any of them tonight. She was going out.

* * *

She hadn't really intended to go to the Tops, but after half a bottle of scotch it seemed like a _fantastic_ idea. She could shut that fucking robot up finally.

She spotted Benny leaning on a railing overlooking the gaming floor. She walked up to stand next to him.

"Hey," she said, leaning her elbows on the railing. "Nice threads."

"Thanks baby," he said, turning. "Nothing but the best for the Ben-Ma-"

He froze. Colour drained from his face.

"Holy fuck," he whispered. "Are you here for- are you working for House now?"

"Something like that."

"Fuck." He stared at her, disbelieving. "Well, I can guess what you're after. What happens now?"

The Courier looked around at the crowded gaming floors. "Is there anywhere less, uh, busy where we can discuss this?"

"Baby, you can't think I'd leave my boys here to go somewhere quiet with a broad that wants me dead?"

"Oh, hey, no, I wasn't planning on killing you. Unless you give me a reason." She grinned. Benny smiled weakly back.

"I just wanted to talk," She continued. "Find out your angle on this. House is fucking creepy. Maybe not permanent employer material, if you get my drift."

Benny ran a hand over his face.

"Shit. Alright. Follow me."

* * *

She sat on the couch in his room.

"So...Wanna drink?" Benny offered.

"Scotch?"

"Sure thing." Benny turned his back, lifting a tray of ice cubes from the freezer.

"Could you maybe do that where I can see your hands?" the Courier suggested.

Benny laughed.

"I guess that's fair enough." He brought the glasses over to the table and poured the scotch over the ice in front of her. She took one, and surreptitiously sniffed it before drinking. Seemed okay.

"Also, could you possibly take your gun out and put it on the table? Just so this doesn't end in a shootout."

"Hardly reassuring, baby." He took his pistol out of his coat pocket, and hesitated. "What about you, are you carrying?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." She grinned at him. She wasn't wearing her pack, but she'd still managed to sneak weapons past the greeters. A switchblade. Silenced .22. Magnum .357. A combat knife. A shotgun with the barrel sawed off. She placed them on the table in front of her in a row. Benny looked ill.

He carefully put his pistol down on the table. The Courier grabbed it. Benny froze, but she wasn't looking at him.

"This is beautiful." There was a detailed painting of a woman on the grip, surrounded by light. She ran her fingers over it gently. The barrel of the gun was engraved with vines and flowers. "This what you shot me with?"

"Uh, yeah. Though you don't look like you took a bullet to the head." He leaned forward, brushing her hair off her face. "You sure I actually hit you?"

"I heal quick. Lucky, I guess," she said, shaking his hand off and draining her glass. She poured herself another drink.

"You know what's silly?" she began. "I kind of appreciated how – I don't know, _polite_ you were about the whole shooting me thing. Courteous," she said. "So yeah, full marks for the lead up. I guess your, uh, execution needs work." She grinned again. Benny laughed uncomfortably.

"So," she leaned forward. "What does it do?" she asked.

Benny pulled a chair up to the coffee table and sat down.

"The chip? Honestly, I'm not quite sure."

She stared at him.

"Are you shitting me? You shot me in the fucking head to get it and you don't know what it does."

"Geez. Sorry, okay? I got a good idea what it does."

"Well?"

"I think it does something to the Securitrons. Something to improve House's defences maybe. He's been after it a long time."

"Yeah, what the shit is up with that?" She sat forward excitedly, gesturing with her glass. Scotch slopped onto the carpet. "Do you know what he is?"

Benny eyed her, carefully. "No. He doesn't sound like a ghoul or a mutant."

"I bet he's a fucking computer. Like maybe he uploaded his personality somewhere before the war, and now he only exists as data." The Courier leaned her head back against the sofa, but her head started spinning when she did that, so she sat forward again. She refilled her drink.

Benny was looking at her warily. He seemed to get more uncomfortable the more she drank. "Why did you come here?"

"Why, do I make you nervous?" She raised an eyebrow.

"For fuck's sake, yes. I thought we'd established that."

"I came here for answers. I don't know if you have the kind I'm looking for though." The Courier chewed her lip reflectively. "And the chip, I guess. Are you going to hand it over or..." she let her voice trail off. "I really would hate to spoil this lovely evening."

Benny sighed. He took the chip out of his pocket, tossed it once, like a coin, then held it out to her. She took it. It was heavy, and warm with the heat of his body.

Her heart started beating faster, just from holding it. Finally. She sipped from her glass, savouring the feeling. She felt powerful, invincible. Her blood was singing. She could do anything. She leaned towards Benny, reached a hand out and ran a thumb gently along the sleeve of his jacket.

"You know," she said, her voice low. "That really is a fantastic suit."

Benny sat perfectly still, eyes on her hand. He didn't say a word, but lifted his glass to his lips with the hand she wasn't touching.

"I think it'd look great on your bedroom floor."

He choked on his drink.

"You're fucking with me. Are you fucking with me?" he said, almost desperately.

"Not yet." She looked him up and down.

"You got what you came for, didn't you?" his voice was near pleading. "Just go."

She stood, moving towards Benny with hooded eyes.

"Benny," she purred, standing over him. "I just wanted to let you know that there are no hard feelings between us. Although," she leant forwards, clamping her hands over his wrists, pinning his arms to the chair. She put her lips to his ear. "I wouldn't mind some."

He moaned, half desire and half fear. Maybe because of the terrible pun. The Courier wasn't sure.

She stood up, running a hand through his hair as she walked towards the bedroom door. In the doorway she turned, one eyebrow raised. Benny stood, slowly. He looked like a man walking to his execution, but he didn't say a word. The Courier grinned wolfishly, and closed the door behind him.


	6. While My Heart Stands Still

Just a short one. More of an interlude really.

* * *

The Courier woke up. She wasn't quite sure where she was, and her head was pounding.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, throwing the covers off. She was naked.

"Fuck," she said again, more emphatically. She looked around the bedroom, memories slowly coming back.

A thought struck her. The chip! The fucking chip! Where was the chip? She leaped out of bed, staggering from light-headedness. Where had she left it? It wasn't on the table next to the bed. It wasn't on the coffee table with last night's empty glasses and the bottle of scotch that was mostly empty.

Her pockets? She didn't remember what she'd done with her clothes, but it definitely hadn't been her that had folded them neatly and left them on a chair.

"Shit shit shit," she hissed, frantically searching through the pockets. Her fingers closed on a round disc, and she let out a sigh of relief. She pulled it out. It was wrapped in a scrap of paper, and she unwrapped it slowly.

It was a purple poker chip, branded with the Tops' logo. 500 caps. She stared, disbelieving. She looked at the note she was holding in her other hand.

_Hey Baby,_

_Can't say I was expecting to wake up this morning without a knife in my chest! You're a real swell gal. _

_Sorry for running off without saying goodbye, but I got business that needs to be taken care of. _

_Maybe when this is all over we can meet up again, hey?_

_Benny_

"Mother_fucker_!" she yelled, not caring who heard. "God-fucking-dammit! Shit!" she threw the chip at the wall. What the fuck was she going to tell House? Or anyone back at the 38?

She dressed, quickly, still feeling ill. She tried opening the other door in the bedroom, which she guessed was a bathroom, but it was locked. She kicked it, hard. How the fuck was she going to find out where he went?

Her weapons were still on the table, lined up in a row, although Benny's gun was gone. She slipped them carefully into her clothes and left the room. Halfway down the hall, she turned back. She was kind of hurting for caps, so she went back to the room and picked the chip up. That was just pragmatic, right? It didn't make her a whore, did it?

Downstairs, Swank was impossibly charming.

"Baby, he left hours ago. Wouldn't even tell me where he was going, said he'd be safer if no one knew. Sounded like he was afraid of something."

Her shoulders slumped.

Swank leaned forward.

"Oh baby, were you the doll he took up to his room last night?" His voice was concerned.

She clenched her jaw. Swank took her silence as an agreement.

"Well baby, you don't have to worry about a thing. Benny told me to look after you, okay? Give you anything you wanted. If you ever need anything, just come find me, I'll sort it out."

She forced a smile and left.


	7. If I Didn't Care Would It Be The Same?

"You feeling better?" Boone asked, as the Courier sat down next to him at the long dining table. She shrugged.

"I'm thinking of taking a trip to Cottonwood," she said, casually. Boone became very still.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, they promised to let me through their camp unharmed to see Caesar."

If she had been hoping for a reaction she didn't get it.

He shrugged.

"If you want to talk to Caesar maybe you shouldn't take me with you." He got up to take his plate to the sink. She followed.

"It's just last time I was down there I found this sniper's nest overlooking the camp, and I thought I could show you."

"I know the place."

"Really?" The Courier asked. "It's quite small, just a couple of-."

"I know it."

"If you say so. Anyway, you wanna go down there?"

"What for?" His voice was strained.

"Oh, I wanted to kill everyone and head on through to the Fort."

He put the plate he was cleaning carefully into the dishrack to dry.

"Are you on something?" He turned and reached towards her, lifting her eyelid with a thumb and tilting her head back so the light shone into her eyes.

"No!" She batted his hand away. "We've just been getting fucking ambushed so much lately that I thought it was time to take the fight to them."

"You realise that Fortification Hill is both fortified and on a hill, right? There are going to be a _lot_ of soldiers in that camp, and we're going to have to fight them uphill. We won't be able to take most of them out from a distance." His eyes were incredulous. "You think you and I can do that alone?"

"Maybe Rex too? As long as he stays in front of me. His metal legs kind of sound like light arms fire when he's running, it makes me fucking jumpy."

Boone turned away.

"Look," he said quietly. "It's something I've been wanting to do for a long time. But there's a pretty big chance we're not coming back. Now, I'm okay with that. But I'm not sure you are."

The Courier chewed on a thumbnail, watching him.

"We're leaving in three hours," she said, finally.

"Okay," he replied.

* * *

They arrived at the tiny camp at dusk. The air was clear and still, the full moon just rising over the mountains. Rex curled up on a piece of cardboard almost immediately, and the Courier bent to scratch him behind the ears, where the metal closed over the dog's skin.

Boone had been hauling the minigun that she'd suggested they take most of the way from the Strip to the camp. She'd offered to carry it a few times along the way, but after the first time, where she'd staggered maybe fifty feet before collapsing under its weight, he'd insisted on carrying it himself.

"No more buffout," he'd told her.

They were so close to the camp that It probably wasn't safe to light a campfire.

"Do you want to sleep? I'll take first watch," the Courier volunteered.

"No. I've got some things to think about. I'll wake you up around one."

The Courier was almost asleep when she heard a metallic grating noise. She opened her eyes. Boone was crouched in front of the box she'd tried to open earlier, holding a rifle. She sat bolt upright.

"How did you get that open?" she exclaimed.

A sharp indrawn breath was the only hint he gave that she'd surprised him.

"Sound's going to travel real well tonight," he said, his voice low. "Keep quiet."

"Sorry." She wriggled closer, her blanket gathered around her.

"But-" she broke off as she saw he was holding a key. She looked from the key to the rifle, and then finally at the camp. Her eyes became large and she pressed both hands to her mouth.

"Holy shit I'm so sorry," she said in a rush, her voice muffled. She wanted to be sick. "I didn't mean to bring you-"

He shook his head, still looking at the rifle.

"It's alright." He looked out over the lake. "It's been a while. This place has some bad memories, but – I think tomorrow I'll have a chance to put some of those to rest."

She must have looked scared in the pale moonlight, because he reached out and ruffled her hair. She blinked. It was unexpected.

"It's okay. I knew we were coming here. Go to sleep."

The Courier looked at Boone's face before closing her eyes. He seemed... happy.

* * *

It was closer to three than one in the morning when a hand on her shoulder brought the Courier from a deep sleep. She shivered. It was definitely a lot colder than when she'd gone to sleep, and she handed the blanket over with some reluctance.

"Why'd you let me sleep so late?" she asked.

"Just thinking."

"I can't let you sleep extra, we have to attack when the sun comes up." She yawned.

"I know."

She rubbed her eyes and sat on the footlocker, leaning back against the wall of the shack.

"Stay awake," cautioned Boone, and rolled over. The Courier watched him for a moment, and then turned to look out over the lake. The camp was silent under the moon.

She woke Boone just before dawn. Her heart was pounding already, and she looked down at the camp through her scope to see the sentries changing shifts. She followed one's path as he walked out of the barracks through the scope, and as he paused to speak to the soldier he was replacing, put a bullet through his head.

She changed position, lying down flat on the ground to increase her accuracy. Through the scope, she watched the other replacement sentry drop to his knees, shot in the chest by Boone.

The camp's dogs started barking, and the sentries coming off night shift were crouching, unable to tell where the bullets were coming from. She laughed under her breath, as she shot one, then the other.

Rex whined, and came to lie down next to her.

"Good boy," she said, absently, as she searched for her next victim.

"Watch the cages," said Boone. "There's slaves in them."

"Right."

Their element of surprise was well and truly gone now. They could hear shouting and gunfire from the camp below.

"Fuck!" exclaimed the Courier. "Who's that fucker in the sweet helmet?"

"Where?"

"He just came out of that concrete building with two floors. The guy with the red plume thing."

"Camp centurion?" Boone shrugged.

"Don't fucking touch him, I want that helmet." The Courier crawled forwards, holding her breath. She had to be careful not to shoot him in the head. She noticed Boone pause for a second, then keep firing.

Her sights hovered over the centurion, trying to find a weak point. He was pretty much covered in armour. Left elbow, face and neck were free.

"Fuck," she said, under her breath. "Okay, fine." She held her breath, hoped, and squeezed.

The bullet hit him just below the cheekbone, and from the angle she was firing at, it must have gone straight through the spine, because he dropped like a ragdoll.

"Fuck yeah!" she yelled. "Did you fucking see that motherfucker?"

"We're trying _not_ to give away our position," Boone replied. "But it was a good shot. Like I said, you got a good eye. Don't get cocky."

She grinned.

* * *

After the camp was cleared and the slaves freed, Boone stopped her as she walked along the dock to the raft.

"You sure going to the Fort is a good idea? This isn't going to be easy, and I think-" he folded his arms uncomfortably. "I think that you're still messed up from being held prisoner. You need to talk to someone about it."

She stared.

"Are you shitting me? Out of the two of us, _I'm _the messed up one?"

"It's normal to be-"

"No! No no no, you don't get to tell me what's normal. Why don't _you_ fucking 'talk to someone'?"

He was silent, which just infuriated her further.

"You shot your wife!" she snapped. "To _save_ her. I can't even begin to-" she broke off. Her eyes were beginning to sting. She scrubbed at them angrily.

"I fucking _know_ what happened at Bitter Springs, okay? What's fucked up is that you take all the blame. All of it. It's really fucking obvious that it's not your fault. Fuck! And you think that you're going to get punished for it one day, but you're punishing yourself every fucking day for it anyway."

Hot tears were rolling down her face. She turned away.

"I thought you'd fucking jump at the chance to fucking kill yourself trying to take out Caesar."

She sat on the end of the dock, feet in the water. She couldn't look at him.

"Maybe I should leave." Boone's voice was low, but steady.

"Fine," spat the Courier. "Fuck off back to Novac and stand in the dinosaur head and shoot fucking molerats."

When she looked over her shoulder, he was gone.

"Fuck," she whispered, and let herself cry properly, under the morning sun.


	8. Would My Every Prayer Begin

Lily reminds me of my IRL grandmother. True story.

* * *

"I think I fucked up real bad." The Courier admitted, looking at her feet as they walked through the Westside.

"Language, dearie," rasped Lily.

"Sorry."

"Now why don't you tell your grandma about your problems?"

The Courier took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I-" she began haltingly. She never knew quite which decade Lily's mind would be in. "I don't even know. I lost something really important, and I'm going to be in trouble for it. And – and I think Boone's gone, forever maybe, and I think I did something really bad to him. And then there's this guy, Benny, right, but..." she trailed off. How could she even begin to explain it, even to Lily? She didn't understand herself.

"Trouble with a young man?"

The Courier laughed, without much humour.

"I guess you could start there."

"Don't worry, dearie, your grandma knows all about young men, she's had her share of troubles."

"Really? I thought they like... paired up men and women in vaults. By computer or something. Or was this, er, after you left?"

"Maybe that happened in some vaults," Lily growled reflectively. "Not mine though. No, I was quite the heartbreaker." She laughed. It sounded like gravel in a concrete mixer.

The Courier looked sideways at the nightkin. She knew that she hadn't always been like that, but trying to imagine Lily as a girl only brought up an image of a slightly smaller nightkin in a dress. Maybe wearing lipstick.

"You take after your mother, dear. Rushing headlong into things with no plan."

"My mother?"

"Yes, my daughter, Hannah. Oh, we fought like dogs and cats when she was young." Lily shook her head. "She just never wanted to stop and think things through. It wasn't until you and the twins came along that she calmed down, and then I could see where she'd been coming from."

Lily paused to nod at Mean Sonofabitch politely. The Courier gave him a slightly forced smile. She had a hell of a time understanding him, but he seemed nice.

"I just feel-" began the Courier, but swallowed the rest of the sentence.

Lily patted her on the back reassuringly. It felt like being tapped lightly with a sledgehammer.

"You can tell me, dear."

"I just feel like something's wrong. Guilty about... something? Like I could fix everyone's problems if I just tried, but I just keep doing the wrong thing. I don't know. Like I'm not strong enough to live up to people's expectations. Like I'm gonna fu- mess up all the time. Why would everyone trust me? I'm just a messenger girl who got shot in the head, how the fuck is that a qualification?"

The Courier looked down awkwardly. She felt her face go red, and shook her hair so it would hide her cheeks.

"It's not coming out right," she mumbled. "Also, sorry for saying 'fuck'."

Lily nodded. "The thing about the wasteland is, dear, is that it's hard. Life isn't easy here, and people will take whatever help they can get. How much you give of yourself is up to you. Everyone makes mistakes, but you can only do your best."

They rounded the corner and walked along the path through the vegetable patch.

"These aren't anywhere near as good as the ones I used to grow," Lily sniffed.

"You- you were a gardener?"

"Oh yes. Back in the vault, I worked in Food Supply and Maintenance right up until I retired. My tomatoes were always much better than the others'. I won awards." She lifted her head high. "I haven't had a tomato that good in a long time."

The Courier was silent. Lily was so... accepting of what life had dealt her. She sneaked a glance sideways. Lily was smiling under her hat. As much as a nightkin could smile, anyway.

"Could you tell me about your grandchildren?" She asked hesitantly.

"It's so nice of you to be interested in an old lady's stories. Well, there's you and the twins; Annabel and Judy, and your uncle Robert has Jimmy and Lucy. Jimmy must be- how old are you now?"

The Courier shrugged.

"Well. Getting on now, anyway. He's a _lovely_ boy. Used to collect Nuka-Cola trucks."

"Maybe we could-" the Courier began, haltingly. "Maybe we... could look for him. Them. They might have had children, or grandchildren that we could find?"

"Oh, sweetheart," said Lily. "Thank you for thinking of me. But I don't think we'll be able to find them. They've all left the nest by now, I think. You've got enough on your plate right now anyway."

The Courier nodded, still looking at the ground.

"Can I call you grandma?" the Courier asked, in a small voice. "I don't think I ever had a grandma before."

"Of course, dear."

They walked out of the Westside and started on the short walk back to the Strip.


	9. And End With Just Your Name

The Courier took the I-88 to Novac alone. It wasn't really that dangerous, not compared to the fucking deathtrap that was the I-15. She'd once spent a terrified afternoon huddled on a ledge, waiting until it was dark enough that she could sneak back to Goodsprings without being seen by a fucking deathclaw colony.

It was dark when the Courier got there, but she'd timed it on purpose, so Boone would see her walking towards the town. She thought she could feel him watching her as she walked up the road. She thought briefly about trying to look at him through the scope of her rifle, but she wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't see that as a threat and shoot her for it.

She raised a hand to wave, in case he was watching.

She took the stairs inside the dinosaur slowly, and stood looking at the door handle for a long time before using it.

Boone stood with his back to her.

"Hi," she said finally.

"What is it?" He didn't turn around.

"I just- I wanted to say sorry, and-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Go wait in your room. I'll come talk to you when I finish this shift."

She hesitated, uncertain.

"Go on," he said, not unkindly.

She left.

* * *

It had been a long time since she'd last been to her room in Novac. It was kind of embarrassing, really. The wardrobe was full of worn and dirty clothes from before the war and bits and pieces of armour. She'd stacked things she thought looked interesting in places all over the room – the table was covered in eggs from different creatures, and on the TV shelf she'd put an odd statue she'd found of a grumpy-looking gnome. The safe was full of 9 and 10 mm pistols and subs that she hadn't used for a long time. There was nightstalker blood in a little jar next to her bed. Why would she even pick that up?

She thought about tidying, but only pushed the teddy bear off the side of the bed before climbing in. She fell asleep almost immediately.

She awoke to a gentle knocking. Sunlight was coming in through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

"It's open," she said, voice blurry from sleep.

Boone came in and sat down on the couch next to the bed.

"I didn't know if you'd still be here," said the Courier, stretching.

"What, you thought I'd find a more permanent solution to my problems?" He smiled, humourlessly. "Can't say I haven't thought about it, I guess." He looked away.

She sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed to face him. "That's not really what I meant, but-" she broke off. "I'm... sorry. For saying those things at Cottonwood. I just got angry, I didn't mean it."

He smiled, again, maybe actually amused this time.

"Yeah. You fight real dirty."

She smiled back, tentatively.

"Can't hold a grudge, but I kinda make up for that by offending people all at once instead. Sorry."

He shook his head.

"It's not important."

The Courier sighed and bowed her head.

"Will you come back? Please?" she asked, not looking at him. "I don't think I can do this without you."

"Do what without me?"

She laughed, involuntarily.

"Fuck, pick something. Look," she gestured, "everything right now seems like it's heading somewhere really bad. And I think there are a lot of people relying on me, but the thing is they're all relying on me to do different things and I can't figure out who's right. Fuck." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Shit, I'm so fucking whiny lately. Maybe you're right about talking to someone. I don't know."

Boone was looking at her, brow faintly creased. It might have been concern, but it also might have been waiting for her to get to the point. She gathered herself.

"Anyway, I came up with a plan to take out Caesar, and I actually specifically need your help with it. You interested?"

"Tell me about it."

"Well, Cass and Veronica and I are going to dress like slaves, and we're going to need you to dress like a legionnaire and get us inside the Fort. Then, when we're inside, we split into teams and kill everyone."

"You want me to wear Legion armour?"

"Yeah I know. Sorry. It's just our best chance to get as many people in as possible. It only has to be for maybe an hour. Please? You're the only one who can realistically do it. I mean, we can't disguise Lily at all, I don't think they let ghouls in the Legion, and I'd rather keep Arcade out of serious combat. Rex can probably come though."

Boone looked at her for a long time. It felt like he was measuring her somehow.

"Okay," he said at last.

"Thank you," the Courier said, smiling in relief. "So much. Hey, about Bitter Springs-"

"No." Boone stood, ready to leave.

"What?"

"Not interested in talking about that right now. Later. Maybe."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry. Then, uh, you get some rest here, I'll go pick up the girls from the 38, and we'll collect you on the way to Cottonwood."

Boone opened the door.

"It's good to see you again," he said, looking out into the daylight. "This place is..." he didn't finish, just went out and closed the door behind him.

The Courier looked at the door a long time, then got up and started to gather the few things she'd brought with her. It was a long walk to the Strip and back before dark.


	10. And Would I Be Sure

The Legion had sent reinforcements to Cottonwood Cove by the time the group arrived. It was hardly surprising, really, it had been several days since they'd first cleared the area. The Courier directed Cass, Veronica and Rex to attack from the road, while she and Boone flanked them to make sure no one could escape to the Fort with news of the attack.

"Okay, so," the Courier began, looking through her scope. "I don't think you'll need to say much. I mean, this aim's not really infiltration, it's just getting inside." She paused to fire. "Although, I asked Arcade and he said that they pronounce Latin the proper way, and the v's sound like w's and the j's sound like y's. So I guess if they say 'ave' to you, you have to say "ah-way" back."

"Wasn't really planning on talking to them much." Boone said, grimly.

"Do you want to wear my centurion helmet?"

"No."

Boone finished the last of them, and they walked down the slope to meet up with the others.

The Courier searched the headquarters and came back with three slave outfits. They were little more than shifts, made of coarse cloth with a red cross painted sloppily on them. They were uncomfortably short, and the Courier had to stop herself from trying to pull the hem lower every few minutes. She stowed their armour in a duffle bag she'd found to take with them.

Boone didn't say a word as they paddled across the lake, the splashing of the barge pole the only sound they could hear. He was standing uncomfortably in his Legion armour. He looked odd in a full-face helmet instead of his beret. Rex was sitting up, wagging his tail.

Cass cleared her throat, awkwardly.

"So, guys, if we don't make it, I just wanted to say-"

"We're going to make it," said the Courier. "All of us." She didn't know how much of that was bravado and how much of it was reassurance.

Fortification Hill was approaching rapidly. The Courier's heart started pounding. Veronica noticed her tension and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

The boat bumped gently against the dock. A legionnaire came down the path to greet them.

"Ave," he said.

"Ah-way," replied Boone, and shot him in the face.

They changed into their armour on the shore.

The Courier was so nervous and excited it felt like she'd taken a psycho.

The camp hadn't had much time to react to the shot outside its gates, and as a result there were only a handful of guards to greet them.

The Courier ducked under a machete blade, dropping to her knees. She shot the legionnaire in the knees with her shotgun, almost severing them from his body. She finished him off with a shot to the face.

Boone had a nightkin sword that she'd given him earlier almost as a joke because it was so huge, but he was surprisingly good with it, slicing another legionnaire in half diagonally.

Veronica took out the third, punching him so hard his chest caved in.

"Alright," said the Courier. "Good job. Boone and I are going up the hill by the gate there, and we'll provide cover as you clear the bottom level, and try and pick the fuckers off as they come through the gate. Then we move up a level and do the same. Got it? Go."

The slaughter was glorious. The camp, unprepared for an attack, was disorganised and slow to respond, as the Courier and Boone picked off their leaders. The dogs, still trapped in their pens, howled at the scent of fresh blood spilt on the dirt.

As they moved slowly to the top of the camp, the Courier marvelled at the bodies lying broken in her wake. Fuck yes. She could do anything. She could hear Rex growling, tearing flesh. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, her armour and face were covered in blood; hers and others', and she felt like a goddess hurling thunderbolts at the people below.

The two teams reconvened at Caesar's tent. They must have heard the noise of the attack. The Courier was surprised that no one had left the tent since they arrived.

She ripped the tent flap straight off the tent. The Legion's leader was seated on a throne in front of them. He raised his arm, signalling for his guards to attack, but before they could move, the Courier dropped to one knee, aiming her rifle at Caesar. As she did so, Boone aimed over her head. They fired at almost the same time. Caesar's head exploded in a gruesome mess.

The next second she was lying down, in the corner. Her head was aching and her vision was blurred, and she wasn't quite sure how she got there. Had she been hit by something? There was a shape coming towards her, and she groped weakly for her shotgun. It hit her again, a blossom of pain spreading from her head.

A thud dropped the shape before it could hit her again, and a hand grabbed her elbow, lifting her to her feet.

"Watch yourself!" said Veronica, and charged off towards another guard.

The Courier stumbled, shook her head to clear it. As her eyes came back into focus, she saw the bodies lying around them. Shit. Was she really that late to the party? She felt disgusted at herself. Boone was sitting slumped against the wall, panting with exertion. Veronica was leaning over a body. Cass's body? Cass was lying on the ground. The Courier walked over, unsteadily.

"Cass?" she held her wrist to check her pulse and leaned forward to put an ear over her face. She felt the warm draft of Cass's breath, and the beating of her heart. She sighed, relieved.

She heard a familiar voice.

"Baby? Is that really you?"

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice..

"Benny?" she asked, incredulous. "You motherfucker. What are you doing here?"

He nodded towards Caesar.

"He's got the chip. Took it off me when I was trying to sneak past his boys. They haven't been the best hosts, I'm sad to say." He had a black eye, and a bruise on his cheekbone. His suit was wrinkled and dirty. It might have had blood on the sleeve.

The Courier looked through Caesar's pockets, and finally found the chip.

"It goes in a vault in a building near the other end of camp. Caesar wanted the place blown up. But I guess we don't have to worry about what he wants anymore." Benny looked at the broken bodies around them.

"Jesus Christ, baby, if I'd known you could take down Caesar I never woulda shot you in the first place. Uh – what are you going to do with me?"

"Let you go, I guess?" she raised a hand to her head. "I don't know. Go back to the Tops. Everyone's dead outside, it should be safe." She crouched to cut his bonds. Hands freed, he grasped her head with both hands, and kissed her on the mouth. She was too stunned to react.

"You're an angel," he said, before leaving.

She stared, open-mouthed, after him.


	11. That This Is Love Beyond Compare

Another short one.

* * *

Cass and the Courier sat in the Atomic Wrangler. All the bars of the strip had seemed too energetic, too bright and exciting. Sometimes what you wanted was a small, dusty room to drink in, with a robot sex toy in the corner. The table between them was covered in empty shot glasses, and there was a half-full bottle of whiskey next to Cass's hand. The Courier was aware that she was a lot drunker than Cass, and also that she might throw up at any second. Cass knew it too, and was grinning.

"So," she began, leaning forward. "What's the deal with you and that Chairman?"

It took a second for the Courier to figure out what she was talking about.

"Benny? What? Nothing."

"He seemed pretty happy to see you. Wouldn't think a guy that shot you in the head would be that glad to see you again." She raised an eyebrow.

The Courier sat very still. As still as she could while the walls were swaying, anyway.

"Wait, what the fuck. Weren't you passed out?"

"Yeah, but I woke up just before he kissed you. So," she drew the word out. "As I asked before, what's the deal?"

"To be honest, I would probably kiss a fucking deathclaw if they just rescued me from the Legion," the Courier snarled. Cass smiled, innocently.

"You were out late the other night, weren't you?" Cass' voice was carefully nonchalant. "Didn't you go over to the Tops?"

The Courier narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"But you only just got the chip off Caesar, right?" She grinned. "Veronica told me that one."

"Benny had a gun, remember?" she said, carefully. "He'd shot me in the head with it twice already, I didn't give him a reason to do it again. Security took my weapons off me at the door, I wasn't going to cause trouble. He took the chip and he walked."

"Oh, I see," said Cass, nodding. "So what did you do for the rest of the time you were in there? Because you came back to the hotel at what, five, six in the morning? I mean, that is a _long_ time for you to be sitting there while someone holds a gun to your head."

"Fuck you," said the Courier, standing. "I'm leaving."

"You fucked him, didn't you?" Cass's eyes were gleaming, excited. "I thought you were after revenge, but you were just after some-"

"Fucking drop it," the Courier growled. She left the bar, walking fast. Cass followed.

"But that's so fucking weird, why would you fuck a guy that shot you in the head? I don't even _know _what sort of weird fetish that would be."

"Fuck!" The Courier stopped, turned to face Cass. "I don't _know_, okay? I wasn't planning on it," she said through clenched teeth. She turned and kept walking. Cass followed.

"So," she asked. "Was he any good?"

The Courier sighed. Her shoulders slumped, and she slowed down to walk alongside Cass.

"Decent," she said, after a pause. "A little self centred, I guess."

Cass laughed, and to her surprise the Courier found herself joining her.

"Aren't they all?" Cass asked. "Are you thinking of going back for seconds?" She smiled slyly.

"Oh," began the Courier. "I don't think so. He's... ambitious. And he's prepared to shoot people to get what he wants. I really don't see that ending any other way than me lying in another shallow grave. He might even make sure the job's done, this time."

"You're, uh, very forgiving." Cass said. "If he'd shot me, that bastard would still be suffering."

The Courier was silent for a moment, thinking.

"He's kind of... likeable in person. Personable. Charismatic maybe? And he's one of like three people I've met since I got shot that hasn't asked me to kill someone for him. Shit," she laughed. "What does that say about my standards."

"Well, sometimes a girl just wants some company." Now that she'd dug out the Courier's secret, Cass was being generous.

They were almost back at the 38 when the Courier spoke next.

"Could you not tell the others?" she said, uncomfortably. "This is kind of embarrassing enough as it is."

"No problem," Cass said. "It'll be our secret." She winked.


	12. Would All This Be True

I think a lot about how to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed without sounding like Mr New Vegas. But I can't, so, please remember, I love each and every one of you.

* * *

The Courier crouched, held her hand up. Boone stopped immediately. The courier crawled, knees and elbows, to the top of the ridge in front of them. This far south there were a lot of ghouls around, some dressed like NCR. Boone had been near silent since they'd run into the first group of them, and while the Courier took their dog tags from them in the hope that they could maybe be identified, Boone had stayed further away. It probably wasn't a bad idea, to be honest, the glowing ones were pretty radioactive.

"Oh wait, never mind," said the Courier. "It's a tiny bighorner." She stood up.

"You see its parents? They can get pretty aggressive."

"I think this is a farm, actually." She was halfway down the hill, and Boone finally stood to follow her. There were two run-down barns, and a burned out husk of a house. In front of the house there were two pens, gates broken off. One pen had bighorners, the other had brahmin.

The bighorner calf butted weakly against her knee. It alone had ventured out of the pens, the others nosing at the dry earth or chewing at the wooden staircase in the barns. The Courier worked her fingers into the tangled, rough hair of the calf. She could feel its ribs.

"I think they're starving here," she said. "Do you think we could do something for them?"

"If they get hungry enough, they'll leave." Boone was scanning the horizon.

"I don't know, they look like they've been here a long fucking time already."

"So what are you thinking, herd them north? Through ghouls, radscorps, deathclaws, whatever else? You know anything about herding large animals?" He sounded irritated.

"No," the Courier admitted, hesitantly.

"Then leave it. You can't fix everything."

The Courier watched him. Boone was tense, on edge.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said, but then turned to look at her. "Actually, no. You're not taking this seriously. We've been shooting people I served with, that the Legion turned into ferals. And you're thinking about finding some farm animals a new home."

"I'm... sorry," she said, her voice unsteady. She felt her cheeks flush red "I- Alright, let's head back to McCarran, I'll see if there's anything else I can help out with there."

Boone was silent as they walked. Thinking? Brooding? The Courier wasn't sure, but she did know that he'd never snapped at her like that before. To be fair, the tiny town of Searchlight they'd just passed was a nightmare. Bodies with flesh melted off their bones. Legion soldiers with orders to return that could never have been completed.

They'd also been hearing some chatter lately about the Legion mobilising, or getting ready to, anyway, but she thought the attack on the Fort would have bought them a few weeks at least, until they got the succession plan into action and reorganised the troops to make up for those lost in the attack. It was too much to hope for that they hadn't heard.

As they got further north, the hazy glow of radiation lifted, and with it, the Courier's spirits.

"Do you-" she began. "Do you still think about Bitter Springs?"

Boone took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Yeah. A lot."

"Have you ever thought of going back there? Maybe it would be helpful."

Boone didn't reply, and when she turned around, he had stopped.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, voice low.

"Doing what?" She walked back towards him.

"Trying to make me remember. I don't _want_ to remember. Nothing can change what I've done."

"But you just seem so-"

"Just stop." He held a hand up to stop her from coming closer. "What am I to you, a project? Something else to _fix_? I don't know what you're getting out of this, but do it on someone else, okay? Benny. Whoever. Not me."

She bit her lip. She felt like a kid getting told off.

"Okay," she whispered, and turned around.

She kept walking, and eventually, Boone followed.


	13. If I Didn't Care For You

Uh, wow. Ink Spots songs are really short. Will have to change.

* * *

The Courier and Arcade sat at the brighter end of the long kitchen table, books spread out in front of them.

"So, before the war, brahmin were cows, and bighorners were sheeps?"

"Sheep. The plural is the same as the singular." Arcade said. He looked at her blank stare. "Uh, that means that you don't need to say the s. Like how you don't say 'brahmins'."

"Oh. Okay, so what's a molerat?"

"Pretty much the same thing, just it used to be a lot smaller. From Africa, originally. I believe the government was trying to develop a sort of pest to be used as a weapon against China."

"What about a... cazador?"

"Type of wasp." He turned to a page in one of the books. "Here. They used to be just this big. About as long as your thumb."

She looked at her hands reflectively. "You ever been stung by one?"

"I'm afraid not."

"It _really _fucking hurts."

"I would imagine it does."

"What did a nightstalker use to be?"

"Actually, I don't have anything on those, but I very much doubt that's a natural mutation. I'd assume they were the product of splicing rattlesnake DNA with some sort of canine. Probably coyote, there are a lot of those out here."

"They've got this little ridge of hair down their backs." She reached over her shoulder to demonstrate. "That coyotes don't have."

"Like hyenas?" Arcade frowned. "Well, maybe. I don't think their pack behaviour is the same though. Probably need a skeleton to know for sure."

The Courier shrugged. "I'm really not going to drag a nightstalker carcass back here. Sorry."

"Hey, that's fine. Mutant taxonomy's not really my thing, anyway."

"Wha-" she began.

"Well howdy, pardner!"

The Courier jumped. Victor could move really quietly for such a big robot.

"The boss would like a word with you!"

"Uh, thanks Victor." She got up, rolled her eyes at Arcade, and followed the robot to the elevator.

To be honest, she kind of liked Mr House. Maybe not liked. Admired? The way he talked, every word precise and powerful. Like he was from another time. Well, he was, really. But piecing together a city like the one he grew up in was amazing. And destroying most of the bombs that were going to hit Vegas before they fell. She even tried to swear less around him, because when she did, his sort of air of distaste made her feel like the little piece of wasteland trash that she admittedly probably was.

"My projections show that the Brotherhood of Steel is likely to be the biggest threat to New Vegas. You must eliminate them."

She tried very hard to show no reaction.

"Um. What about if I could, uh, talk them into leaving or something. I know the Brotherhood's a little fractured, maybe if they could be persuaded to head west to the others-"

"No," House interrupted. He did that a lot. "They must be destroyed. And they must have no chance to contact other chapters."

She nodded, carefully.

"I see," she said, carefully. She left.

The Courier leaned her head against the wall as she took the elevator from the penthouse to the presidential suite.

Fuck.

She had been hoping to avoid committing to any one side for just a little longer. God damn it.

Veronica was reading a book in the guest bedroom.

"Hi," the Courier said, feigning a brightness she didn't feel. "I really have to talk to you! Now. Out in Freeside. Or maybe Westside."

"Okay," said Veronica, folding the corner of the page and closing the book. "What about?"

"Um. Well, nothing much, just, uh, something really minor. That I've been thinking about lately. But we need to leave, like, right now."

As soon as they were out of the 38, Veronica grabbed her arm.

"So what's the deal? Is it about Boone?"

The Courier was watching the securitrons, trying to figure out how well they could hear. It took her a few seconds to register what Veronica had said.

"Wait, what?"

"Did you two have a fight? He seems unhappy."

"He always fucking seems unhappy," the Courier snapped, shepherding Veronica through the securitron checkpoint.

"Anyway, no," she said, once she was sure they were out of hearing distance. "I mean - actually yes, I guess we did kind of have a fight, but that's not what I want to talk to you about."

"Okay," Veronica said, slowly. She was smiling gently, like she thought the punchline was going to come at any second.

The Courier took a deep breath.

"House wants me to blow up the Brotherhood."

Veronica's eyes were confused, then hurt.

"I'm not going to!" the Courier added, quickly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be telling you. Shit, that sounds really bad. Fuck. I don't know what to do. Does this mean I have to kill House now?"

"Why does he want you to do that?" Veronica asked, softly. "No one even leaves, not really."

"Power armour? Tech? Lasers and shit, I guess. Just kind of threatening. Also I think he wants the Legion to beat the NCR at the Dam, and then I guess he'll show up with the securitron army and kick everyone else out. I don't think I can really let that happen." She frowned.

"What if I just left? Like, packed up and went to the coast or something," she asked, almost desperately.

"I think he'd just find someone else to do what he wants," Veronica said, still looking shocked.

"Yeah," the Courier said, unhappily. "But on the plus side, he has terrible taste in minions, right? First Benny, then me, he's zero for two."

Veronica almost smiled.

"Maybe I should head on over to the Dam," the Courier continued, looking at the ground. She kicked a stone and watched it bounce. "See if they need some help."


	14. Maybe You'll Think Of Me

The Courier sat on her bed, going through the top drawer of the nightstand. Jet, psycho, jet, jet. Why so much jet? Her fingers closed on a syringe of med-x, a piece of cork covering the end of the needle. There, she was feeling relaxed already.

She was just reaching under her bed for her rolled up length of surgical tubing when there was a knock on her door. She thought about not answering it, but shoved everything back under her bed and went to the door.

It was Boone. The Courier tensed, involuntarily.

"Hey. I'm... sorry. About what I said to you the other day."

She watched him, silent.

"I was thinking about what you said. About going back to Bitter Springs. I think I should go back."

"So go." She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Fine." He turned and stepped into the elevator.

She closed the door gently, and sat down on the end of her bed. Fuck. She looked down at her hands. She didn't even feel like fishing under her bed for the med-x. She tried to imagine Boone as he walked out of the Strip, through Freeside and out past the farmlands into the hills. Boone alone at Bitter Springs with a gun and a lot of bad memories.

She was in the elevator before she even realised she'd made the decision.

She caught up with Boone outside the Wrangler. She couldn't speak for a moment, panting, hands on knees.

"I want to come with you," she said. She'd been thinking about what she'd say since she left the 38, and this was the best she could come up with?

"Okay," said Boone. He turned and kept walking. "It's good to have you with me."

* * *

As they walked into the hills, Boone became quieter, more withdrawn. The Courier felt like she had to talk more, to compensate, although she also realised that Boone probably wasn't interested.

"And the slaves, I don't understand why they wouldn't just leave," she said. "I mean, I drew a map on the ground of how to get to Novac and Primm and even Goodsprings, but they just walked away. I told them that they probably didn't have long, the Legion would be coming back to recapture them, and how they didn't deserve to be treated as property, and they could make new lives for themselves. But they weren't even interested."

"Like the animals on that farm," said Boone, quietly.

"Y-yes. You mean – that they just didn't know anything else? That they couldn't imagine not being a slave?"

Boone shrugged.

"I just... Just wish I could have done something to help them." The Courier looked at the ground. "They were scared of me."

Boone was looking at the horizon.

"We're almost there, I think. That's Coyote Tail." He was pointing at a small ridge, far in the distance. "That's where we were positioned."

The Courier followed as he led the way. The sun was setting over the mountains to the west

Boone sat down on the edge of the ridge. "I guess you know the rest," he said. "We were ordered to shoot anything that came out of that valley. Someone tried to radio back to HQ but they told us to keep shooting. They were kids. Old people. Women with babies. I can still remember their faces. They were scared. Didn't know why their friends were dying."

The Courier sat down next to him.

"That's kind of the point of the army though. Soldiers can't think about their orders and only follow the ones they want to. You've got to obey, or else everything else falls apart. They shoot people for not following orders, don't they?"

"Yeah. It's just... following orders doesn't really seem like much of a justification now."

The Courier nodded. "Have you actually thought about going to see that doctor? The one I told Betsy she should go see? I think it might help you deal with things."

No answer.

The Courier lay down on the warm rock, arms outspread, knees still dangling over the edge of the ridge.

"I don't know much about doctoring, besides bandaging and injecting," she said. "But... I've sort of got a theory. Can I tell you about it?"

"Go ahead."

"Okay. So I think that everyone has ideas about themselves. Like a collection of things you like doing and things you hate doing, and morals and values and what you believe is right. Before Bitter Springs, you thought you were a good person, right?"

"Never really thought about it."

"But if someone had asked you, that's what you'd say, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"And then you get made to do something really bad, that goes against all these ideas you had about yourself, and you really don't want to do but you have to, and then you think that if you were such a good person why would you do this terrible thing, and that sort of creates a disconnect between your ideas and your actions."

No answer.

The Courier propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Boone. "Am I making sense at all?"

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

The Courier watched as the pink clouds turned to blue. Boone turned around to look at her.

"Can we stay here tonight? I want to think about things."

"Okay," she replied. "It's been a while since we went camping, anyway." She grinned.

* * *

She was shaken out of sleep, back stiff from sleeping on the rock.

"What's up?" she asked, sleepily.

"Legion party. Big."

She struggled to sit up. "Where?"

He pointed to the southeast.

"I think a group's split off. They might be coming through the canyon."

The Courier couldn't see his face in the darkness.

"When I said big, I meant _big_," he continued. "You might want to sit this one out."

"Fuck, this again?" she complained, softly. "I'm not going to let you die, much less a camp of unarmed refugees and soldiers I'm friends with. How long do we have? Long enough to get the refugees to the back of the canyon and get some NCR backup?"

"Yeah. Be quick, though."

She ran through the night, breathlessly waking the Captain and officers, who began to move the refugees. Some of the refugees were crying, adult and children alike.

She caught up with Boone at the camp's entrance. She could see the first legionnaires coming over the hill, little more than silhouettes in the bright moonlight.

"Okay. Um, lets start here, and when they get close, fall back to the tents at the top level so we can cover both entrances. Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Lets go."

Her heart was racing as she watched the dark figures through her scope. Breathe. Aim. Shoot. Confirm kill. Breathe. Aim. Shoot. Again.

She raised her head. Clear. She waved at Boone to fall back. NCR troopers positioned themselves among the tents.

The new spot she had picked for them had a good view of the main entrance, but the path through the canyon was obscured by a tent. She started crawling, trying to find a better angle, but dropped flat as she heard the firing start. A blossom of flame caught her eye. They were setting fire to the tents. Burning canvas flapped in the wind like ghosts. The Legion's dogs were baying.

She turned to Boone.

"We gotta go down there. It's too hard to see from here. You good?"

He nodded.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She led as they crawled down the slope. A staccato burst of machine startled her, and she started shooting automatically. The flames lapping the tents had destroyed her night vision. Shit. She'd have to remember that one. She looked over her shoulder to check on Boone. He was gone.

"Fuck," she said, out loud, and barely registered the whistling sound of a machete coming towards her. She scrambled away, shooting wildly upwards.

She moved to a crouching position. She saw a legionnaire standing over a fallen soldier, and shot him twice. She wiped sweat from her face. Shit, all this suspense was getting to her. She crawled past a tent, scanning the ground through her scope. She was never as glad for the night vision as she was right now. Two dogs went down in quick succession, and then another legionnaire.

Silence fell over the camp.

The Courier got to her feet. Nothing shot at her. Good sign. Soldiers were attempting to put out the fires, and refugees were hesitantly walking back down to their tents, trying to find anything they could salvage.

Boone. Where was Boone? She felt a sense of unease overtake her as she searched the bodies. Mostly Legion. Some NCR, but not many.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach she walked over to the fallen soldier she'd seen earlier, next to the legionnaire she'd shot.

"No no no no no," she whispered, kneeling. It was him. Of course it was. She put her hand under his head and lifted him gently. He opened his eyes.

"Oh my fucking God!" she exclaimed, close to tears. "I thought you- I thought-"

"Not this time," said Boone, climbing to his feet. "We won, huh?"

Something about his voice put the Courier on edge. She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you disappointed?" She was incredulous. "Are you actually fucking unhappy that you're still alive?" She pushed him, hard. He took a step backwards. The relief she'd felt was gone, replaced with a cold fury.

She wanted to hurt him.

"Did I fucking take away your opportunity?" She went to push him again, but he caught her wrists with his hands. She struggled, even though she knew she couldn't get free.

"At least fucking realise that you're the only person keeping score!" she spat. "Nothing's coming for you!" The rest of the camp was probably listening, but she didn't care. "Okay, yeah, you've done something really bad. It doesn't have to fucking define you forever! Do good things to make up for it, or I don't know, we can go on a fucking Legion hunting safari when all this is over."

Was she crying again? Again? God damn it. The tears were making streaks in the dirt and soot that covered her face.

"Just... _you_ can decide what happens to you. _You _can. No one else."

She stopped struggling, and he let her wrists go. He lifted a hand to her cheek. Her heart rate leapt into the triple digits.

"You're bleeding," he said, holding out his hand, blood on the fingertips. She put her own hand to her face, felt the cut. She traced a stinging line down her face.

"That machete must have hit me after all," she said, half to herself. She looked at her fingers and then back up at Boone.

"I just want- I just-" she couldn't explain, exhausted. To her surprise, he took her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. She was shaking, from fear, or anger, or just fatigue, but he held her until she stopped.


	15. When You Are All Alone

covered in lace: thank you so much :) but I've just been a lazy writer these past couple of days.

* * *

"You always been a courier?" Boone asked. It was afternoon at the Hoover Dam, the sky hazy and the air tense.

"Doubt it," she replied, looking over the edge. "Hey, did I tell you the story that one of the engineers I was talking to earlier told me? She said that a private came up from McCarran, right, apparently a bit of a troublemaker, Crenshaw, I think. Anyway, he was trying to impress his buddies by walking along this concrete barrier here-" she hopped up and began walking along it.

"And he's screwing around and looking over the edge and pretending he's lost his balance, but while he's doing this his sunglasses fall off. So he bends down and leans forward at the same time, to try and catch them-" Boone grabbed her wrist firmly as she tried to demonstrate.

"Hey, it's not going to happen to me," she grinned. "Anyway, as you've probably guessed, he doesn't catch them, but he falls in, yelling the whole way down. He wasn't hurt, but the engineer said it was a _nightmare_ to get him out. Just look at these cliffs!"

Boone didn't react. The Courier quirked her head.

"What is it?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"What did you do before you became a courier?"

The Courier smiled uncertainly.

"Why do you ask?"

Boone sighed, but answered the question. "Well, you've got a decent grasp of strategy. Better than a courier should have. But you don't seem ex-military. Just wondering where you picked that up."

"Oh," she shrugged. "I just think about where our guys and their guys are for a bit and then put people where it makes sense."

"Where did you learn it?" Boone's voice was a shade away from being threatening. She shivered, though tried not to let it show.

"What, you think I was in a gang or something? Raider? Probably not a Fiend, they're usually the 'run at you shooting' type." The smile she'd been trying to keep on her face was wavering.

Boone stood watching her, measuring.

"What?" she asked, in desperation. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," he said, quietly. "Don't _you_ trust _me_?"

She was silent.

"You've dodged this question every time I've asked it." She could hear the frustration that he was trying to keep out of his voice. "Who are you? Where are you from? You've told me nothing."

"I didn't think it was important." The words came out weakly, sounding more like a question.

"Why can't you tell me?"

"I don't know."

Boone looked away, out over the lake.

"Fine."

She took a step towards him. "No, I mean I don't know. I don't remember. Anything, really. Getting shot. That's it."

Boone shook his head.

"You really thought I'd believe that?"

"It's true," said the Courier. She bit her lip. "I recognised the Mojave Express office, but not the man who worked there. There's just kind of nothing there."

"And you haven't even tried to find out who you were? I don't understand."

The Courier sat down against the wall of the guard tower.

"It's... hard to explain," she began, hesitantly. "I- I like who I am at the moment. What I'm doing. It's not _easy_, but... it feels like I'm doing the right thing." She moved her legs to the side and lay down on the concrete, face to the sky. "And I'm not sure I always did that."

She smiled, embarrassed. "I realise that I sound like a gigantic hypocrite, after I kind of bullied you into thinking about your own past. I just don't think there's anything good to be found in mine. I could be wrong. I don't know."

It was a long time before Boone spoke again.

"You do that, a lot. Lie down when you're thinking."

Yeah, it helps," she replied. "Or maybe I just used to be a hooker." She grinned. She thought she heard Boone laugh. He sat down next to her, by her head.

"Wouldn't someone be looking for you? Family?" he asked.

She looked up at him

"What, like a mother and father? Husband and baby? I doubt it. If there was someone that wanted to find me, I don't think they'd have to look too hard. I haven't exactly been flying under the radar out here." She shrugged, scraping her shoulders on the concrete. "I just... got a chance to start over. That's rare. Even in the wastelands."

She watched the clouds overhead.

"I guess I could have been in a gang. Maybe I tried to make a new start as a courier. I don't know. I keep expecting someone to recognise me. But they never do."

A trooper, walking past, gave her an odd look. The afternoon was turning into evening.

"Tell me about Carla," she said.

Boone became very still.

"What about her?"

"What was she like? What did she like doing? Anything."

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall and looking up at the sky.

"She was beautiful. Liked dancing. Sang in the bar of the Tops, sometimes. She loved how exciting the Strip was, how you could forget there was anything outside it. I thought she'd be happy in Novac, but she wasn't. She was just bored by it. She'd stand up on the balcony at night and smoke, watching the lights of the Strip. I wish I could have made her happier."

"Did you tell her about Bitter Springs?"

"No. I wanted to... protect her from it. Didn't want her to think of me like that."

"She must have known something was wrong, though?"

"Yeah. After a while she stopped asking about it."

There was silence as the evening darkened.


	16. Maybe The One Who Is Waiting For You

"Yeah, the Tops is the only place where I actually give them all my weapons at the door."

Cass and the Courier were drinking in the Wrangler again. There just wasn't anywhere else like it on the Strip. Cass didn't like the White Glove Society, the Courier didn't like the Omertas, and she wasn't quite prepared for seeing Benny yet, either. They'd walked over to Westside first, but the lack of a proper bar meant they'd have to sit out in the street, and while the Courier could probably deal with that, Cass said that it had been a long time since she'd been drinking on street corners and she didn't want to start again.

"You serious? You don't keep anything at all?"

"Yeah. Isn't that kind of pathetic? I think it's because they're all so _nice_. I mean, I know that 'nice' doesn't mean 'won't kill you', but fuck, I just buy right into it. Especially Swank. He's just... _charming_. No one's charming out here!"

Cass raised an eyebrow and grinned. "You got a thing for all Chairmen now? Expanding your horizons?"

The Courier glared. "I will have that sex robot come over here and do terrible things to you," she mock-threatened. She refilled her glass. She had ordered a bottle of vodka, but almost threw up when she tried to drink it straight, so was now mixing it with sarsaparilla.

"Don't tempt me." Cass winked. "So, what are you going to do with the, uh, young man you recently rescued?"

"Do you know," said the Courier, her head beginning to spin delightfully, "he sent me lingerie? Got someone to give it to one of the securitrons to give to me. I'm not even joking. It's leopard print."

"Oh my God!" crowed Cass. "That's amazing. Did you try it on?"

"Of course I did. And it looks fantastic and it feels amazing. But I don't trust him, and I don't know what he wants."

"I would say it's pretty obvious what he wants."

"Cass." The Courier rolled her eyes.

"...your help in taking over New Vegas, of course. What did you think I meant?"

The Courier laughed. "Shit. You'll be right, of course. Maybe it's time I paid a visit. You wouldn't feel like coming along, would you? Wouldn't mind some backup."

"I'll come as long as you don't give the greeters all your fucking guns, how about that?"

The Courier grinned. "No problem."

* * *

"Ladies," Benny greeted them enthusiastically. "I hope this is a social call."

"Not sure yet," said the Courier. She took a certain delight in making him uncomfortable. Was that cruel? Probably. Understandable? Definitely.

They were sitting in Benny's lounge, in his suite on the 13th floor. Three glasses stood on the table in front of them.

"I forgot to give this to you before." She tossed his cigarette lighter at him. He caught it deftly.

"Baby, I had no idea you were so sentimental." He looked at it fondly. "Hey, thanks again for the rescue. I wasn't sure you were gonna let me go again."

"Well," she said, smiling. "I did think about shooting you, but what kind of cocksucker would just shoot someone tied up on the ground in front of them?"

"Real funny, dollface." He gave her a crooked smile. "Now, you're here for one of two things, and your choice of company doesn't really swing the balance either way."

Cass raised an eyebrow. The Courier hid a smile behind her glass of scotch.

"We're here for talking, Benny," she said. "Sorry to disappoint."

He shrugged. "So what's your friend here for? Muscle? Chaperone? Eye candy?"

Cass was grinning. "I'd just heard a lot about you. Thought I'd like to see how you shaped up in reality."

"You been telling tales, baby? I'm flattered."

The Courier drained her glass.

"Come on, we need to talk business." She sat forward. "So, as you'll know, I've used the chip, and it's made a lot of people on the Strip very nervous. What I don't know yet, is who's gonna come out on top."

Benny looked at her strangely.

"And so you thought you'd ask me what I thought about the whole mess? That's, uh... trusting."

"Yeah, well. The way things have been going lately I'm thinking of handing the whole thing off to the NCR."

"Now baby, why would you go and do a thing like that?" Benny moved from his seat to sit next to the Courier. "Why don't you join me? We'd be unbeatable."

She laughed. "I don't want to be the fucking king of New Vegas."

"Baby, you'd be the queen of hearts! Or diamonds. Whatever you want, you can have it."

She chewed on her bottom lip.

"The way I figure it," she began, hesitantly, "is that NCR is going to want to keep the Strip alive. It's a money spinner, right? Maybe they'll take a bigger cut of your takings. Now, the Omertas are planning something, so I can take them out, and House said something about the White Gloves violating their contracts, so I can go after them too. Say I get rid of both of those, you can take over. And reopen the 38. Do what you want."

Benny's smile was gentle. Almost condescending. "Are you gonna give me the securitrons to defend them all?"

She was silent.

"Then I got nothing to bring to the table when the NCR comes knocking." He lit a cigarette, looked again at the lighter, and tucked it in his breast pocket. "It's a nice thought, kid. Thanks for the warning, anyhow."

The Courier stood to leave.

"Think about my offer, okay?" Benny said. "It won't be open forever."

Cass followed her out of the room.


	17. Will Prove Untrue

The Courier squinted though her scope. The night vision on Ratslayer got a little weird around dawn and dusk, and she couldn't quite see the deathclaw she'd been aiming at.

"Do you see it?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Boone. "Between the cliff and the bush. Closer than I'd like."

She swung the barrel around, then froze. The deathclaw's head was so close that didn't fit into her scope. She had a view of its dripping teeth and a swivelling eye as it turned its head to sniff at the air.

"Fuck," she dropped her voice to a whisper. "Do you have anything armour-piercing?"

"No," he said, carefully. "There's another one behind it. Stay calm."

She put the rifle away, slowly.

"Okay," she whispered. She was sure the deathclaws could hear her heart pounding. "There's a path behind us and to the right. It goes up. Start walking. Slowly."

She crawled backwards up the slope, trying not to slip on the loose stones and dirt. The second deathclaw had caught up with the first and was snapping playfully at its leg. She didn't let herself relax. Never relax around deathclaws. But she may have been a little less wary than she otherwise might have been, and the outcrop of rock she was holding onto crumbled under her hand, sending a tiny cascade of stones down the path.

The stones seemed to take a long time to roll down the hill. She watched them as they bumped gently against the huge talons of the deathclaw. It turned to look at her, tilting its head quizzically. She stood, slowly.

"Uh, we have to go. Now. Run. Right now."

They ran.

One of the things that unnerved her the most about deathclaws is how quiet they were for such a big animal. No roaring or growling, just a long, loping run that was faster than any human could hope to beat. The path was narrow and winding, which gave them the slightest of advantages. The deathclaws couldn't make their huge leaps , and they had trouble squeezing through the tight passage.

The Courier thought she could feel the deathclaws' breath on the back of her neck, hot as an oven and smelling like rotting meat. She scrambled up the steep slope on all fours, just behind Boone. The path widened out at the top, and – unbelievably – there was a shack nestled in the cliff face.

Something heavy hit her from behind, throwing her forwards. She scrambled to her feet, throwing herself through the door. Boone caught her by the arm and yanked her through, slamming the door behind them.

"Can they open doors? Can they fucking open doors?" Her voice sounded panicky in her ears.

"I don't _know_," Boone snapped, frustrated. "They're pretty smart."

He pushed a set of steel shelves against the door, then looked around to see what else he could use. There wasn't much. There was an old campfire in the middle of the floor, scattered bottles of beer and old tins, another set of shelves, a dirty mattress, and a fridge. He put his shoulder against the fridge and shoved it against the door as well.

There was a tentative scratching, as if the deathclaws were testing it. A thud shook the tiny shack as a deathclaw hurled itself against the door.

The Courier looked around, terrified, for some way to escape, a weapon, chems, anything that could be useful. There were half a dozen jet on the floor, but that was no good. A rough-hewn wardrobe at the back of the room. She tried to open it. Locked. Shit. She searched the floor, hoping the owner had dropped the key. Nothing.

Another thud shook the room. Bottlecaps fell off the shelves to her right, and with them, a tiny metallic thing that didn't sound quite like a bottlecap. The key.

"Fuck _yes_!" she exclaimed, snatching it up. She opened the door with shaking hands, expecting a gun locker or ammo stash. Instead, there was a staircase, leading down.

Boone turned.

"Is anyone down there?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Then let's go."

The door was heavy and reinforced, and they found they could bar it from the other side. Boone insisted on going down first, doing a perimeter check to make sure there were no enemies or traps. The Courier was less reserved. There was an explosives crate! Medical supplies! And a gun locker! The cellar itself seemed to have been an old brewery. There was an old mattress on an iron bedframe and some suitcases, full of old clothes.

The Courier was feeling slightly dizzy from relief. She sat on the bed, back against the stone wall. It stung.

"Motherfucker!" She sprang up, trying to look over her shoulder without success. "Is there- can you see anything?"

An indrawn hiss of breath from Boone told her it probably looked just as bad as it felt.

"Yeah. One of them got you pretty bad. You should, uh, probably take your armour off. I'll try fix you up."

She peeled the top half of her armour away from her skin painfully, leaving it hanging around her waist. Her grey bra was pretty much lacerated as well, so she shrugged that off as well, standing awkwardly with her arms folded over her chest. Whatever. It wasn't like she had much to show off anyway.

"Lie down," said Boone. She did, noticing the bloody imprint on the wall where she had been sitting just a minute before. Three bright stripes of blood, slowly dripping down the stone.

She climbed onto the bed, face down. It smelled of beer and old cigarettes.

"God any med-x?" she asked, hopefully. There was a long silence before Boone answered.

"Yeah."

She felt the pinprick in her arm and sank into a state of comfortable relaxation. She was kind of impressed, it had to be pretty bad if he'd let her shoot up.

"I think if you just inject two stimpaks between the cuts and then bandage it up it should be fine," she said, lazily.

She felt four injections in her back. She frowned and tried to push herself up to see over her shoulder.

"Am I dying?"

"No. Stay down." He covered her wounds with bandages.

"If I do die you can't feel guilty about it, okay?" She felt blood slowly cooling in a pool on her lower back. She shivered. The air in the cellar was damp and chilly.

"You're not going to die. Do you have any nuka-cola? Sarsaparilla?"

"Check the back pocket of my pack." Her words were starting to slur. She put her head down on the bed. She was so tired.

"Hey, no, awake." Boone lifted her head. "Drink this."

It was sweet and fizzy. She spilled some on the bed, but managed to drink most of it.

"You know what helps with staying awake?" she asked. "Jet."

There was a pause.

"Really?" Boone sounded like he was actually considering it.

"I am actually dying, aren't I?" The words were slurred, blending into each other. She wasn't even sure if she'd said it out loud.

Boone handed her another nuka-cola. "Drink."

"Tell Veronica she can have the heels I bought the other day."

"You're _not dying_." Boone's face was little more than a blur.

"And don't tell grandma," she mumbled. "Say I went somewhere else. She'll be sad."

She felt something scratchy touching her back, and then she was suddenly sitting upright. The room started to come into focus. She looked down. The scratchy thing was a blanket Boone had wrapped her in.

"I need you to stay with me, okay?" Boone was looking into her eyes. She swayed a little, but nodded. He handed her a third nuka-cola.

"Why'd-" she tried again, trying to pronounce her words properly. "Why did you move to Novac?"

He looked confused, but answered. "Manny told me about it, actually. Said it was quiet, safe. Good people." He paused. "Guess he was wrong about the last bit though." He smiled bitterly.

"Why didn't he and Carla get on?" She wrapped the blanket around her more snugly.

"I'm not really sure. She was... lonely in Novac. Didn't like the desert, or the tumbleweeds, or the crows. Or No-bark, although he did threaten her with a knife. And Manny just didn't have any patience for that. I don't know why."

"He threatened me with a knife too. Uh, No-bark, not Manny. Though the reason I asked was that Manny seemed kind of... I don't know, jealous. That she was taking all your attention."

Boone shrugged a shoulder. "It doesn't matter now."

"But it does," she said, yawning. "You're so sad all the time. And angry. Sad and angry. And you don't deserve to be. I want to sleep."

"Not yet."

"Do you ever wonder if I'm really the right person to be following?" She tried to sit back against the wall, but that hurt, so she hunched forwards instead.

Boone smiled. "If you mean, have I ever doubted you, then yeah. But... not since I've seen what you're capable of. This is-" he broke off.

"What?"

He sighed. "It's been a long time since I've felt like part of something important. I've... kind of missed it."

The Courier smiled. Boone seemed a long way away.

"I wish I could help you though," she said.

"You do."

The last thing she saw was Boone standing up suddenly, as everything went black.


	18. Then What Will You Do?

PLEASE REVIEW I CRAVE VALIDATION

but seriously, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, or alerted, or just read it :) you're all awesome.

ALSO I am actually as conflicted as my Courier on how to resolve this. Opinions welcome.

* * *

The Courier opened an eye. Her mouth was dry and tasted like metal. She tried to raise a hand to rub her eyes, but her arm was all tangled up in something, and she couldn't figure out what was happening so she just let it drop. The roof was concrete, cracked and crumbling. She didn't recognise it.

She was wearing a hospital gown, and lying on some sort of plastic surface, which she only knew because it stuck to her skin when she tried to move. She tried to sit up a little. A circular light bank was positioned by her feet, and the reason her arm wasn't moving properly was that it was full of needles, their tubes leading to IV bags on the stand next to her.

"Whuh?" she said. She tried again. "Muh?"

There was a noise from outside, and the next moment Arcade walked into the room.

"Good morning!" he said. "Glad to see you're awake. It was touch and go for a while there."

"Whazzi?"

He slid the needles out of her skin.

"Everything went fairly successfully. You should be able to sit up, I think."

She swung her legs off the table obediently.

"And I'll just take a quick look at those dressings." He walked behind her and began to peel bandages from her back. "Good. Very good, actually. You heal quickly."

"Itches."

"Yes, it will. That's generally a good sign though. Don't scratch it." He changed the bandages deftly.

"Water?"

"Of course." He left the room for a minute, and returned with a chilled bottle of water. She gulped it down thirstily.

"Where's this?" she asked, after she'd drained the bottle.

"New Vegas Medical Centre. I had initially planned to take you to the Old Mormon Fort, but you'd lost a lot of blood, and we just didn't have the facilities there. To be honest, I really wasn't sure that you were going to make it."

"What'd a deathclaw use to be?"

Arcade smiled, lightning-quick. "A type of lizard. A chameleon, I believe. Fortunately somewhere along the line they lost their ability to change colours in order to blend into the background."

"Fuck," she said, weakly. "If they could fucking disguise themselves as well, they'd just... well, kill everyone."

"Undoubtedly."

Her head was beginning to clear.

"What... happened?" she asked. "How did I get here? Where's Boone?"

"Well, Boone carried you to the Lucky 38," he began, but the Courier interrupted.

"Shit, like all the way from the shack?" She was impressed. "That's ages away. Like, fireman style or what?"

"I wouldn't know," Arcade said. "But, I didn't have the resources or equipment to help you there, so we took you here instead. I sent Boone home, maybe three hours ago. He was exhausted, he'd been here for over 24 hours."

"Oh," she said. "Does he know I'm alive?"

"Well, you were stable when I made him go home, so he does. He obviously doesn't know you're awake though." He shrugged. "It's-" he looked at his watch, "three PM now, and ideally I'd like to keep you here overnight for observation, but you're probably good to leave."

The Courier bit her lip. "Can I-" she began. "Can you tell me- I don't really know what to do with New Vegas. The Dam and stuff. I just thought – you're really smart, can you tell me what the best thing to do is?" She flushed red with embarrassment. Arcade made her feel like a kid. Not a particularly smart kid, either.

"Ah yes," he began. "The bull versus the bear. Kind of like the pre-war conception of a financial exchange. Except, I suppose, we'd hope for a bear market rather than a bull market." He turned to see the Courier staring at him, face blank. "Uh, never mind. What I think, is that the Strip and the surrounding communities are generally capable of self-governance and probably better off without military oversight. But at least you seem to be siding with the lesser of two evils. It's a strange situation."

"So... wait, should I stick with House? Because I have thought about it, and I think he'd probably be good for the Strip, at least, but it's just he's kind of possibly evil."

"Well, no," replied Arcade. "Good God no. I mean properly independent. Elections and so on. Eventually, anyway."

The Courier frowned. "But surely, in a place like New Vegas, the richest people will just buy votes. Like, there's a lot of money here, but also a lot of poverty. It's pretty obvious how things are going to go down, isn't it?"

Arcade looked at her for a long time, then sighed. "Maybe. There may have to be some sort of administrative period to introduce elections. Make sure they're fair."

"Who's going to do that?" snapped the Courier. "Me? You? Faction leaders? Fuck!" she took a deep breath. "Sorry. It's just I've been thinking about this for ever and I still can't see what to do. It's just so fucking complicated. I just thought... at least the NCR knows how to run things. Even if they're not really what's best."

There was silence.

"Well," the Courier said. "I mean, maybe the Followers would do a decent enough job. And I guess there's the securitrons to back it up. And then there's Benny," she continued, half to herself. "But I want to NCR to keep the Dam, because they're actually doing good things with all the power. But that seems to exclude the other options. I just don't know." She looked at Arcade and shrugged. "Can I go now?"

"Yes. Although, there was one other thing that Dr Usanagi thought I should bring up with you."

"Yeah?"

"This is-" he sighed, and started again. "When you were brought in, we had to do a quick analysis of your blood to determine what medications it would be safe to give you. Painkillers, antibiotics, stuff like that."

The Courier narrowed her eyes.

"You had... a lot of chems in your blood. A _lot_. More than is safe."

She hopped off the table. "I'm leaving now. Where's my stuff?"

Arcade looked away. "It's behind the desk."

"Thanks." She left.


	19. Maybe You'll Sit And Sigh

Writing this was WAY easier when I could just churn out a bunch of words when I was feeling bored and not have to worry about "plot" or "consistency" or "running out of lyrics"

Warning: TALKY.

* * *

"Go on through, soldier."

The Courier assumed they were talking to Boone, but she'd been doing so much stuff for the NCR lately it seemed as if she'd been adopted by them. Adopted into an irritable, overstretched, desperate, but still loving, family. Lately, she'd been getting a lot of "You killed Caesar? Just one little girl? That's amazing!", and she'd have to keep explaining no, it wasn't just her, she had some serious backup and couldn't have done it without their help. Cass in particular was getting kind of aggressive about being ignored, and to be honest the "little girl" part didn't sit that well with the Courier herself.

The monorail station at McCarran was empty, the last few passengers just getting onto the train. Boone moved forward to join them, but the Courier put her hand on his arm.

"Can we just... not go back to the Strip just yet?"

"Okay."

They watched the train leave.

"So what is it?" he asked.

She sighed, and sat down against the wall. The metal was hot against her back.

"Mostly, it's how the thing with the Omertas went down. I mean, I got both my contacts killed, and everyone on the Strip is like "yeah, good fucking job!" But it really wasn't. I kind of bullied them into doing what I want and they got killed for it. They didn't deserve it."

"They made their choices. Same as you."

"Yeah, but I – I could have done it myself. Left them out of it. I wish I could take things back. Do things differently."

" I've thought those exact words every day for three years. It doesn't help anything."

She flushed bright red. "Sorry. I – sorry." She made her hand into a fist and pressed it to her lips."I'm just not as... heroic as everyone thinks. I feel kind of like a fake out there." She chewed on her lip.

"I don't really understand you," said Boone, after a pause. "You seem... like you're part of the wasteland, but you're not affected by it."

"Are you serious?" she smiled, confused. "Not affected? I keep having this dream where we're at Cottonwood Cove, right, and it's empty. No slaves, no crucifixions, no Legion. And we walk down to the water, and then all the soldiers we killed start crawling out of the water. They're dripping and covered in seaweed or whatever, and bits of them are rotting and decaying and falling off, and they don't want to kill us, they just want us to come with them and show us something, but they don't understand that we can't breathe underwater and they just drag us down into the lake. Just... fuck."

She wrapped her arms around herself as if it were cold and leaned her head back against the wall.

"That's not it." Boone was staring out into the distance. "You've got no... bitterness."

"I got a shitload of regrets."

"Not the same thing. You just keep going. Every day. Everyone else is struggling to get by, but you seem like you're enjoying it. You even make getting shot in the head a good thing. Somehow."

She grinned. "Maybe the bullet like, lodged in the grudge-holding part of my brain."

She rolled her head to the side, leaning it against Boone's shoulder. She felt him tense, and then just when she was wondering if it would be really awkward and obvious if she were to pull her head back, he relaxed.

"I think I've been given this huge amazing chance," she said. "And if I fuck it up, then everyone's lives will be ruined forever."

Boone sighed. "As long as you're not helping the Legion, there is no way you can make New Vegas any worse. Just... stop worrying. You're doing a great job. "

Another train pulled into the station.

"You want to get this one?" Boone asked.

"No," she said in a small voice. They watched the soldiers get off, a few giving them odd looks and some greeting the pair as they sat on the ground. The train left.

"What do you think you'll do after all this is over?" she asked. "I'm assuming I won't get us all killed."

"Huh," said Boone. "I don't know. Haven't thought about it."

"Is it because you assume I _will_ get us all killed?"

"It's not that," he said. The Courier was never sure if he just ignored her jokes, or her jokes were just not that funny. "I haven't had plans for the future for... a long time."

The Courier had that empty feeling again in the pit of her stomach. It didn't feel like pity, or sympathy, exactly, it felt like someone was actually reaching into her stomach and squeezing. It felt uncomfortable and confusing and like it didn't belong.

"I think," he continued. "I might like to join First Recon again."

"Holy _shit_," the Courier exclaimed, sitting straight up. "Seriously?" She turned to face him, pulling her legs under herself.

"Yeah. You surprised?"

"Well, yeah, kind of. But that's... great. So are you – you're feeling better about it?"

"I guess," he said. "Bitter Springs is... it's still a part of me. And still important. But... it isn't everything anymore." He rubbed the back of his head. "So, thanks."

"For what?" she grinned. "Bullying you into thinking about things you didn't want to? That hardly seems like something you could thank me for."

"You spent a lot of time on it," he said. "And you didn't have to."

She shrugged. "I still think you should go talk to Usanagi. I mean, she's trained for stuff like that. I'm just irritating." She grinned.

The Courier watched as a raven flapped lazily onto the tracks, pecked at the metal a couple of times, and took off again.

"Do you think they'd let me join First Recon?" the Courier asked, quietly.

There was a pause.

"Maybe if you stop yelling 'headshot' and trying to high five people when you hit something." Boone said.

The Courier grinned. "I only did that once! Twice maximum. And they were such good shots."

Boone looked at her. "Honestly, I think you could get anyone here at McCarran to write you a recommendation. You'll have to go through the training, but... yeah, I think so."

"The only thing is," he continued, carefully, "I really can't imagine you in the military."

"What?" she glared. "Why the fuck not?"

"Well, you don't really like being told what to do. That's really one of the most important parts about the army." He was choosing his words carefully.

She was silent.

"Why would you want to join First Recon? Because you want to work with me?"

"What?" She was startled. "Uh, maybe? I don't know. I'm just trying to think of things I could do."

Boone took his sunglasses off and turned to look at her.

"Look. Sometimes, in the army, you're going to get ordered to do things you don't want to do. We've been through this. But sometimes, you might have to leave people you care about behind on the battlefield, when maybe you think you could have saved them."

"And you don't think I could do that?" She'd meant it to sound indignant, but it came out weak.

Boone laughed, a little frustrated. "I think you might have some trouble, yeah, but that's not really what I'm saying. The thing is – I couldn't leave you behind. That's the problem."

He stood up as the next train arrived at the station.

"You ready to take this one?" he asked.

She couldn't speak. She nodded, and followed him as he stepped onto the train.


	20. Wishing That I Were Near

OKAY ON THE HOMEWARD STRETCH LETS GO

I really want to say thanks in particular to kittenkatpaw for helping me think through where this is going to end up! And also to everyone who has reviewed, I love you all (truly).

* * *

It had to be done. Sooner or later, it didn't really matter, but she'd been putting it off for long enough. House had to be taken out. Armed with a handful of mentats and a stealth boy, she took the elevator to the penthouse without telling anyone. She wasn't sure that House didn't have the suite bugged, but she also didn't much want to discuss the upcoming assassination in case someone talked her out of it.

She returned no more than fifteen minutes later, white-faced and wide-eyed, and shut herself in her bedroom, crawling under the covers without so much as taking her boots off.

Cass and Veronica came in to the room together.

"That alarm before... was that you?" Veronica asked.

The Courier was little more than a lump under the blankets. "Yeah." Her voice was muffled.

"Did you kill House?" Cass asked. "I was on the casino floor just before and the robots went all weird for a minute."

"Mm," said the Courier.

"Well... what happened?" asked Veronica.

"Shot him."

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"'No' to being okay or 'no' to getting hurt?"

"Okay."

There was silence.

"Could we," Veronica began hesitantly, "maybe get you anything?"

"No."

Silence again.

"Okay, well, let us know if you need... anything." Veronica's voice was soft and confused.

The Courier heard the door close behind them. Fuck. Fuck shit fuck. She needed to stop thinking. Now. She was scrabbling through what she now thought of as her medicine drawer when there was another knock on her door. Shit, she hadn't locked it after Veronica and Cass left. She slammed the drawer shut and retreated back under the covers.

Someone sat down on the end of the bed. Heavy.

"What are you doing?" asked Boone. His voice was gentle. Friendly. Maybe how you'd talk to a kid you were looking after, and you'd taken your eyes off them for a second and turned around to see them enthusiastically gobbling clumps of dirt.

She couldn't reply. Her voice was stuck in her throat. What she'd done... she didn't know if she'd ever feel right again.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

"No," she managed. She wriggled back and sat up, covers wrapped around her. Her hair was messy from the blankets, but she didn't try to fix it. She took a deep breath.

"He's dead," she said.

"Wasn't that the plan?"

"I murdered him," she said. It came out sounding like a question.

"Ah," said Boone."I think I see. Tell me what happened."

She took a deep breath.

"He was old and thin. Thin like a feral ghoul. He was all the same colour, like... like paper. In those books from before the war, that are a bit scorched. Thin and yellowish and... fragile. And he – he asked me why I was doing this, and all I could say was 'I'm sorry', and he called me a stupid child that didn't understand anything, and, you know, maybe he's right, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing! He's protected New Vegas from the bombs, and the raiders and monsters and everyone else, and made it back into a city and I just – I just kept saying that I was sorry, and then I just put the gun under his chin and..."

Boone came a little closer, put his hand on her arm.

"He had a plan," she continued, dully. "I don't have a plan. Not really."

"House being dead makes things a lot easier for everyone, you know," he said.

"Does it make things better?" she asked, her eyes feverishly bright.

"I don't know the answer to that any more than you do."

"I just want to know that I'm doing the right thing," she said, miserably.

"Well," replied Boone, "if I didn't think you were doing the right thing I wouldn't be here. But I'm not sure that's the answer you really want."

A corner of her mouth quirked in what was almost a smile.

"It just seems like... this much responsibility shouldn't be mine. But I've told you all this before."

She paused, and looked warily into Boone's eyes. "Maybe... maybe you could help me forget about all this for a while."

He drew back a little. She wouldn't have used the word 'recoil' to describe it, exactly, but it was definitely 'away' rather than 'towards', and that was something she wasn't entirely happy about.

"What do you mean?" he asked, but she could see in his eyes that he knew what she was asking. "You really want..."

She could feel her cheeks start to burn.

"Well, shit, you don't _have_ to." Her voice sounded too loud, echoing strangely in the room. "I just..." she took a shaky breath and reached out a tentative hand to touch his cheek. Stubble scraped against her skin.

Time seemed to grind to a halt, each second unbearably long. Boone raised a hand to cover hers on his face. Her mouth had gone dry. She swallowed thickly.

And then he leaned forward and kissed her, gently at first and then hungrily, a hand on her back to lower her gently to the bed. She arched her back, letting her head fall back against the pillow, and made a noise halfway between a moan and a gasp as Boone kissed her throat. He drew back a little, looked into her eyes, and then... stopped. Just froze.

"Hngh?" The Courier wasn't quite capable of speech yet.

"I don't think I can do... I'm sorry," he said, backing off and standing up.

The Courier propped herself up on her elbows, but Boone was almost at the door by the time she got her voice back.

"Do you think she'd want you to be alone? Do you think she'd want you to be so unhappy?" She kind of wished she hadn't said it when she saw the look on Boone's face, but he went out and closed the door behind him without another word.

She stared at the door for almost a minute, trying to sort out what the fuck had just happened. God damn it. She got up, locked the door, and sat down again on her bed. She opened the drawer and dug through it until she found a familiar syringe. At least she wouldn't have to think about this all goddamn night. This and House. What an amazingly shitty day.

Depressing the plunger made everything right with the world, if just for a little while. She drifted into sleep.

* * *

Boone was gone when she woke up. She spent a few minutes questioning the others, and all she managed to glean was that he'd pretty much walked straight out of her bedroom and into the elevator. Shit. The battle at the Hoover was maybe a week away at the most and she'd lost her sniper. She threw a few things in her pack and set out to find him. It couldn't be that hard, right?

Benny was waiting for her outside the 38. He fell into step with her.

"Could it be our girl's done something rash?" he asked.

The Courier forced a smile, but it was more of a grimace. "You got the obituary?"

"I did indeed, angel. What I was curious about was how that went down. What _was_ he?"

"Fuck." She twisted her fingers together. "Just a man. Just an old man. Really old. In some kind of preservation thing. Chamber."

Benny caught her wrists gently and pulled her hands apart.

"Did a bit of a number on you, huh?"

"I think it's the worst thing I've ever done. "

Benny grinned. "You should ask for help sometimes, baby. I wouldn't have minded having one last chat to the old man."

The Courier was barely listening. "I don't know. What if this has been a huge mistake? Fuck, he was just so thin and weak and helpless and his fingers looked like claws. And he had cybernetic parts." She shook her head to try to clear it. "Sorry. It's just you're the only other person who's met him."

"No problem, baby. Look, I gotta ask - with House out of the way, where do you and I stand?"

The Courier pressed her fingertips into her eyes. "Can we talk about this later? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Benny put a hand on her shoulder, gently but firmly. She stopped.

"There might not _be _a later. I'm on shaky ground here. You gotta give me something, or things might start happening without you."

She stared at him. And then everything fell into place. She had a plan. Finally.

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I gotta sort out a few things first, and I should probably warn the NCR brass to be polite, but... I think I want to keep the city. And I'll need your help to do it." She eyed him cautiously. "So yeah. I'd like to work with you. If the offer's still open?"

"You cut it very close, but yeah." Benny grinned. "Good to have you on board."

She put a hand on his arm, disengaging herself gently from his grasp. "Can we talk terms later? I really have to leave now."

Benny was generous in his victory. "Sure thing, dollface. Hey, one question before you go - just curious, do you know a cat in Red Rock Canyon? Goes by Jack?"

"No. Wait, yes. Jack as in 'Jack and Diane', because yeah. Why?"

There was something about Benny's smile that made her uncomfortable. "Just a thought, baby. Catch you round."

She gave him a weak, confused smile, before turning and walking out of the Strip.


	21. Then Maybe You'll Ask Me

Okay! Had to get this one out before I go away for a few days.

I feel bad for updating less frequently lately! I get all caught up in making things make sense and rationalising behaviours and making sure everything's perfect, but I guess I'm just overthinking it.

If there's one thing that this game has taught me, it's that _you can't make everyone happy_.

* * *

The Courier circled around the outskirts of the city, trying to track down someone who had seen Boone leave. One of the Kings that she found outside the Freeside gate said he might have seen him, but wasn't really paying attention to where he went, and the other thought he might have been going east, but he wasn't sure if it was the same person she was talking about. Westside hadn't seen him, which made sense because there wasn't much out that way, except maybe Jacobstown, but why would he go there? Still, east was a good a start as any.

Neither the medical centre or the guards at Nellis had a clue who she was talking about, but she wasn't particularly surprised about that. She tried Bitter Springs, but she hadn't really expected him to go back there, either.

She made the trip out to the Hoover Dam without much hope he'd be there, although she did get a special invitation to sit in on security for President Kimball's visit in two days. At the Dam it was widely regarded as a terrible idea, but the General got what he wanted, so they had to put up with it.

Novac seemed like the obvious choice, but no one had seen him there either, which worried her a little as it was hard to avoid, but if Boone didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't be. No-bark said something about aliens to the north, which the Courier was tempted to ignore, but she knew that the one time she didn't listen to him he'd be right, so she spent the afternoon nosing around HELIOS and the dustbowl before giving up in disgust. She was tempted to stay in Novac for the night, but decided she'd wasted too much time already and kept going south.

She ended up walking back into Cottonwood Cove at maybe 4 in the morning, exhausted and starving. It was just as deserted as the last time she'd been there. She went inside the commander's office, looking for food. The Legion seemed to have a decent garden somewhere, as they were never short of fresh potatoes and carrots. She checked the oven. There was meat inside it, but given she'd killed the centurion almost a month ago now, thought it probably wasn't worth trying. It looked weird, too. She couldn't quite figure out what animal it was from.

The Courier walked back outside, and looked up at the mountains. The sniper's nest? Well, maybe. She'd rather sleep up there than in this creepy deserted camp, anyway.

She arrived at the top of the hill, panting slightly. Boone was sitting by the unlit campfire.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she said back, collapsing on the ground, trying to get her breath back.

"Look," he said. "Sorry about just leaving, I-"

"What?" She interrupted, grinning slightly manically. "No no no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... uh, put you in that position. It wasn't really... professional. Not that I'm particularly professional to start with." The apology was starting to go wrong, so she closed her mouth.

Boone didn't say anything to that, just kept looking out over the bay. The Courier leaned forward.

"I got you something." She handed him a long black rifle, the barrel gleaming in the morning light.

"An anti-materiel rifle? What's this for?"

She frowned. "Shooting things?"

"I mean, what's the occasion?"

"Am I not allowed to give you a gun?" Her voice was a little more defensive than she meant it to be. "You gave me a gun."

He shrugged, and then looked from the gun back to her. "Did you try and shoot anything with this?"

She grinned, embarrassed. "Uh, yeah, I did."

"How did that go?"

"Well," she began. "The radscorpion pretty much exploded, but I also couldn't feel my right arm for like two hours. I was kind of surprised I didn't break something, actually."

Almost a smile. Almost.

"What did you come here for?" she asked, softly.

He shook his head. "Need to think about things."

She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "We don't really have much time," she said hesitantly.

"I know that."

"NCR command asked me to look after the President while he's here. Uh, security-wise I mean. That's the day after tomorrow, and I'd really like your help with it."

"Okay."

The Courier's eyes were starting to close on their own.

"Did you walk the whole night?" Boone asked, turning to look at her.

"Oh," she said, waking up a little. "Yeah. But I took like ten detours, so it's my fault really."

He rubbed a hand against his forehead. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I was worried," she yawned.

He glared, voice suddenly harsh. "I'm not going to jump off the nearest cliff, okay? You don't have to worry."

"Well I don't know what you _are_ going to do because you never fucking talk to me about it," she snapped.

He turned back to watch the sky. Dawn was breaking in the distance, the mountains limned with far-off light.

She thought for a few moments, and climbed to her feet. "Come with me."

"I'm not ready to go back yet."

"No no, we're not going back. "

"Then where?"

She pointed. "Just south a bit. It's a nice place. Found it when I was poking around here with Arcade a while back. Might have to clear some lakelurks out though."

Boone eyed her cautiously. "Okay," he said, and stood to follow her.

* * *

Blue Paradise Vacation Rentals was probably a nice place before the war. Not for rich people, that was what House's resort at Golf was for, and the cabins were tiny and cramped and you wouldn't get to pick your holiday neighbours, but two hundred years later it was amazing. Soft, warm sand, clear water, and beach umbrellas. And, since they'd cleared out the Legion, completely deserted. The closest people were probably the soldiers outside Searchlight.

The Courier unlaced her boots and kicked them off. She sat down under the umbrella closest to the water.

"Do you want a drink? I've got-" she rummaged through her bag, "some beers, wine... absinthe for some reason? Gross." She set it aside. "If I put these in the lake they might cool down a bit." She scrambled to the water's edge.

"What are we doing here?" Boone asked.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "It's the beach! A holiday. Time off. Whatever."

"Are you serious?"

"Mostly." She climbed up to the shelter of the umbrella. "Things are going to get pretty intense for the next... week or so. Might as well take advantage of the time we have."

Boone sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry I took you to Red Rock Canyon that one time," she said, after a pause.

"It's okay."

"I didn't mean to! I was just following the trail through the mountains to see what was there."

"I know."

"Fuck I wanted to punch that guy in the face though. The one who said the thing about you being a murderer. I just didn't because there were like three hundred of them. And we kind of needed them as allies. Or at least not-enemies."

"I've been called worse."

"Doesn't it make you angry?"

"Not angry, exactly."

The Courier looked sideways at him. He wasn't giving anything away. No thoughts, no feelings, face expressionless.

"Have I kind of messed everything up?" she asked, looking down at her bare toes.

He shook his head, but didn't reply.

"I just don't want things to end like this," she said in a small voice.

"They're not ending like anything." He took a breath and let it out again, tight and controlled. "I just need to think. I can't do that when you're talking."

She looked at him, eyes wide. "Okay," she said, finally. She wriggled back into the shade under the umbrella, sand warm from the sun, and finally let her eyes close.

* * *

When she woke up, Boone was drinking one of the beers she'd put into the lake.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

She stretched, and raised a hand to scratch her head. "Mm-hmm. Sand in hair. Gritty." She tried to comb it with her fingers.

"Want a beer?" Boone stood.

"Sure."

He walked down to the water, picked up a bottle, and twisted the cap off. She was oddly touched. She had a hell of a time with those caps sometimes. Boone handed it to her, cold and dripping. She smiled up at him.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Uh, okay, I guess. Confused. When I first left Novac with you, this wasn't really what I expected."

She laughed. "Shit. That whole fucking mess seems so long ago now."

"Yeah."

"Did killing Jeannie May make you feel better?" she asked.

Boone took a while to reply. "It made me feel _something_. Which was more than I was really expecting, I guess."

There was a pause as they looked at the sun sparkling on the water.

"Why did you take me with you?" he asked. "I remember, after I shot Jeannie May you took a really long time walking up through the dinosaur, and when you came out you looked like you were going to throw up. The last thing I was expecting was an invitation."

"Well," the Courier gestured with her bottle. "I'm a sucker for a tragic tale and a pretty face."

She hadn't been sure he was actually going to laugh at that, and when he did she realised she'd been holding her breath.

"Seriously though, um, I don't really know. A lot of reasons, I guess. You just seemed really... alone. And you seemed like you just wanted to keep killing things, and I figured that could be useful." She shrugged. "And I was... I was worried about what you'd do if you just stayed in Novac. Just doing the same thing every day until... I don't know. Something happens. You can't do it anymore." She frowned, remembering. "But yeah, I actually did throw up a bit later. When I was in the bath and picking bits of her brain out of my fucking hair. That was probably the worst bath ever."

"So... you asked me to go with you because you thought I was dangerous?"

"I guess? I mean, you put a lot of trust in a stranger, to pick the right person. What if- what if it hadn't been me that showed up first? Or what if I hadn't been able to find any evidence, and just chose Manny or something?"

He didn't reply.

"And as for asking a heavily armed man with a questionable mental state that I'd just met to follow me through isolated parts of the wasteland, uh, yeah, you may have a point. But when have I ever made great decisions about my personal life?" She grinned and got up, walking down to the water.

The beer she'd brought was finished. She picked up the wine dubiously. Drinking straight from the bottle didn't seem right.

"There's probably glasses in one of the cabins," she said, and stripped down to her underwear as nonchalantly as she possibly could. She couldn't get her armour wet, it was leather. And the metal bits might rust or something.

She leapt into the water, and was barely under for a moment before she reemerged, shrieking in delight and shock.

"It's so cold!"

"You're the one who got out of your armour."

She couldn't think of a response to that, so she swam around the other side of the cabin and dived to open the door.

The cabin set her Geiger counter off. Was her pip-boy malfunctioning? Or were the stoves nuclear-powered or something? She didn't stick around to find out, but scooped up two chipped tumblers and returned outside to the surface. She climbed onto the roof of the cabin, and sat on the warm wood with her knees pulled up to her chest.

"Not coming back?" Boone asked.

"It's cold."

Boone sighed and began to take off his armour. She grinned as he waded into the water in his boxer shorts and pulled himself up on the roof.

"You left the wine on the bank," she said.

"I know," he replied. He reached a hand behind her head, pulling her gently towards him.

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said. "I think so." He hesitated. "I – I still love her."

She smiled gently, sadly. "I'm not asking you to stop."

He kissed her.


	22. To Come Back Again

Getting this shit FINISHED before the new year. One more chapter after this.

I don't write Benny very well because I just can NOT get my head around the way he talks so I think he's coming across more Sam Spade which is not what I was aiming for but is possibly my next closest reference.

Also I can't really call this a vignette series any more. My poor artistic integrity.

I've had a really hard time writing this! To be honest, this is the first thing I've ever written past 7000 words or so, and I would like to say thank you to everyone who's given me feedback on this or even just read the whole thing, it's been a strange journey.

* * *

"So," said Benny, handing her a glass of scotch and sitting down. "How'd they take it?"

"Uh, about as well as you'd expect," replied the Courier. "I don't think we'll be getting any Christmas cards this year."

"And they just – what? Said they'd leave, let you take over?"

"Well, not exactly," she shifted, tucking her legs under her. "I did actually say they could keep McCarran as a base on the frontier. And the Dam, if they were willing to slightly alter the standing contract with House. Although I said we were more than willing to take over administration and maintenance and supply _them_ if they didn't want to be tied down out here."

Benny raised an eyebrow. "Okay," he said slowly. "Possibly not the way I would have done it, but I can work with that."

"And I said I'd be happy to take over the sharecroppers contracts and work out some sort of preferential supply agreement with them. Uh, I got that from Cass." She laughed. "Moore kind of wanted to gut me, I think. I told her that the Hoover battle could be a lot harder for them without the Boomers, and Arcade's retirement hit squad, and the Brotherhood's help. Anyway, she called me a traitor and I told her I wasn't even in her stupid army and it's not like I _had_ to save the president, and Oliver told her to take five." She paused to take a gulp of scotch, and tilted the glass towards him to make her point. "_He's_ the weak link, see. He can't lose the Dam or he'll be in the shit. I think it was the Kimball thing that really got to him, to be honest, that's when he stopped being like 'ha ha, look at this little girl trying to tell me what to do', and actually started getting properly angry at me. Am I talking too fast?" She felt almost dizzy, drunk with disbelief at her victory.

"I still don't understand why you wouldn't let me come with you," he said. "I've been living here a long time, see."

"Well, uh, mostly because I don't think you and Moore would get on at all and I didn't want to escalate things any more than I had to. Like, she's the type that's had to fight really hard for everything, and I don't think she really trusts bright lights and glamour and men in fancy suits, you dig?" She flushed when she realised she was picking up Benny's way of talking.

"Anyway," she rushed on, "Oliver said he couldn't make the call on his own and had to radio his superior, and I think the prospect of having to fight the Legion _and_ a robot army _and _a New Vegas insurgency – because, you know, the NCR is _fucking_ unpopular out here – kind of put them off, but this way they get to have a victory over the Legion and get to recentralise their horribly overstretched forces without suffering major losses. How much do I fucking rule?"

"It seems that congratulations are in order," said Benny, refilling her glass. He sat down on one of the bar stools, facing her. "Now how's about you tell me what you actually want to do with this city?"

"I want to make Freeside more like Westside. More independent and self-sufficient. Fund the Followers. Patrols to look after the towns. Get some fucking prospecting expeditions out to find some new fucking music. There's probably more, but that's where I'm going to start."

"So you're just going to make everything all better for everyone?" he said. "Trying to make everyone happy and fix what's wrong with the city? I should get you a subscription to Fixin' Things for Christmas." He lit a cigarette.

"Where do I fit into this, exactly, angel?" he continued. "Why keep me around?" He was smiling, but there was a steely undercurrent to his voice. The Courier suddenly wished she'd brought someone else. She took a deep breath

"Benny," she said. "I can't do this without you. Like you said before, you've been here a long time. You know the families, and business, and who to talk to, and how to run this whole town. I need you." She smiled, self-consciously. "I also – I need someone to, you know, tell me when I'm making a bad decision, or we can't afford something, or maybe if I'm just believing every fucking sob story that makes it into New Vegas."

She looked up at him, not sure if she was convincing him.

"There's no reason you can't have what you want as well. Just let me... take care of a few problems." She shrugged. "What do you want done?"

He blew out a long stream of smoke. He thought for a moment. "I want the Omertas out."

"Hey, fine with me." She stood and walked over to sit on the stool next to him. She put her glass on the countertop. "They wanted to blow up half the fucking Strip, and without the bosses, or anyone in management, really, I doubt they'll put up much of a fight. We'll need a replacement , uh, Family though. Any ideas?"

"I was thinking the Kings."

"That's a good idea. They already have a theme, even. That's really good, actually, because they are _way_ too powerful in Freeside. If we move them into the Strip, we can probably weaken their influence out there without them realising until it's too late."

"You're getting the hang of this awfully quickly." He raised an eyebrow.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," she said. "I was also thinking maybe you should let Swank take over as leader the Chairmen. No no, don't get mad, just it might look better if you're not really representing any group other than yourself. Keep the White Gloves on side, anyway."

"Wouldn't mind replacing them either," he said.

She smiled. "I can't think of any other tribes. I don't think the Khans is a good idea, somehow."

He grinned, sat back a little. "So what about you and me?" he asked. "On a more... personal level."

The Courier took a shaky breath in, and a half step back. "I like you, Benny. A lot. But I don't think that would work out."

"Oh baby, you're breaking my heart." He grinned. "Why not?"

"Well," she said, sipping her scotch, "for a start, I don't think we're going to agree on everything most of the time."

"Oh," he said. "So you'd be expecting me to slip you something a little sharper than usual in the middle of the night, is that it?"

She choked. "Holy fucking shit," She said, half laughing, half trying to breathe. She pressed a hand to her mouth and looked at Benny standing there, crooked grin on his face, hands thrust in pockets and leaning back slightly, and wasn't quite sure that she'd made the right decision.

"There's – someone else," she said, looking away.

"There we go," he said. "So which is it, the redhead or the sniper?"

"The redh- Cass?" she laughed.

"Well, they're the only two I ever see you with," he said, giving a one-shoulder shrug.

She smiled. "The sniper, then."

"Huh," said Benny. "Disappointing. Well, I'm not going to try getting in his way. Got that thousand-yard stare thing going on."

She smiled, raising an eyebrow. "You're not the settling down type, are you, Benny?"

"I think I'd make an exception for the right girl," he said. "If that girl ain't you, though, I got no problem with that."

She looked away.

"I asked you once about Jack, didn't I?" he said, thoughtfully. "If we're gonna work together there's something I need you to do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You gotta ditch that chem problem, baby."

The Courier's eyes widened. "What? I don't even-"

He laughed. "Spare me the denials, baby, I've lived in this city a long time now, I know what it looks like. About at this stage, you take it just to feel normal, am I right? I'm not working with anyone who's a med-x away from joining the fiends at any given moment."

She swallowed, with some trouble, and pressed her lips together.

"I can't just stop. Not now. I'm... busy. Need to get things done."

"There's never a good time," he said. "You want my advice, head to the clinic just out of town and hole up there for a week. It'll make it easier on you. Less radroaches crawling out of the walls. Your call, though."

She shook her head. "I can't think about that now. Just – are the securitrons ready to go tomorrow? Don't forget, if you screw me over now, NCR will walk right in and take everything."

"Your faith is touching," he said. "But yeah, everything's taken care of. I haven't just been sitting on my ass while you've been out making friends. I'll have the securitrons waiting outside Freeside when you leave tomorrow."

The Courier finished her drink. "Jesus fucking Christ," she said. "How the fuck is any of this going to work?"

Benny grinned. "Don't worry about a thing, kid," he said. "I've got it all sorted out." He stood up. "I think it's time that I introduce you to my silent partner." He led her into the back room.

* * *

The Courier walked back to the 38. Robots directing more fucking robots. She didn't know if that put her in a better mood, now that she had some certainty, or a worse mood

Tonight had to be it. Well, maybe in the morning. She'd sacrifice the element of surprise for a decent nights' sleep. She stood outside the door for a moment, watching the light bleed from the sky. She tried to ignore the nagging sensation that told her it was the last sunset she'd ever see.

When she got to the presidential suite, the others were sitting around the table eating. She sat down next to Veronica.

"Hi!" said Veronica, nibbling on a stick of squirrel bits. "Hey, have you ever seen a squirrel?"

"Um, no," said the Courier, distracted. "Is it like a molerat?"

Veronica shrugged. "Hey, so, big day tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You doing okay?"

"Kind of scared as shit."

"You should give a speech!" Cass said, leaning over. "That's what you're meant to do, right? Night before a battle? Raise troop morale?"

"Fuck off," said the Courier, taking the whiskey bottle out of Cass' hand and drinking from it. "It's not like everyone's here, anyway, Arcade's out in Freeside until things are over."

"Who gives a shit?" Cass took the bottle back. "Give the rest of us a speech."

"You're such a bitch," said the Courier, half-heartedly, and stood up. Veronica pushed a glass of wine over to her. "You guys," she said, "are the weirdest bunch of fuckups I've ever met, and I love all of you. You've been amazing, you've taught me so much about myself and the wastelands, and I really can not fucking believe – sorry, grandma – that you actually followed me into some of the places I took you."

She laughed. "I'm thinking Vault 34 in particular, so sorry to Boone and to Veronica for not being able to find the armory or the exit, even though I had been there once previously when I took Veronica down."

She took a sip of her wine. "If everything... goes well tomorrow, uh, I'd really like you all to stick around, to be honest. I mean, I'm planning on building a proper city here, not just a playground surrounded by slums, and you all have some great skills that we could use. Or, you know, if you'd like to leave in the middle of the night before the battle, I will totally understand. So, um, thanks. All of you." She held her glass in the air, toasting them, and sat down.

* * *

Pacing. She couldn't stop pacing. She couldn't finish more than a few mouthfuls of food before she'd had to leave, full of nervous energy and unable to focus on what anyone was saying. She was going through tomorrow's battle in her head. It couldn't be too hard, right? No, wait, it really could. A swarm of legionnaires who could take as much damage as a cazador and still keep going. She forced herself to stop walking. She'd be okay. Great team, solid backup, and air support. She couldn't _be_ any more prepared. But the thought of a Legion machete sinking into her skull, in graphic detail, was too much.

She sat down on the bed and opened her drawer. Last one? Probably not, considering tomorrow. She looped the tubing around her arm. While it would seem being high as a kite on the battlefield was a bad idea, it did offer some brief respite in the midst of battle. Shot in your leg? You won't even care, just keep running.

Just as she was squeezing the plunger, there was a knock on her door, and without waiting for an answer, Boone walked in. She froze, tense and wide-eyed.

"Busy?" he asked, after a pause.

She stared at him, and at last shook her head.

"I came to see how you were doing," he said.

She laughed, humourlessly. "I'm okay," she said. "Despite..." She looked away. The warmth of the med-x spreading through her veins was messing with the adrenaline she knew she should have been feeling.

"I'm going to stop," she said, maybe a touch too defensively.

Boone shut the door carefully. He pulled a wooden chair over from her desk and sat down. Not close enough to touch.

"Okay," he said.

She turned away from Boone to slide the needle out of her skin, and dropped it and the tubing on the floor beside her bed. She folded her arms, almost hugging herself, but couldn't sustain it and melted back onto the bed.

"Did you know?" she asked, looking at the ceiling. "You don't seem surprised."

"Yeah."

"Does everyone know?"

"Not sure. Don't think so."

She paused. "You never said anything."

He sighed. "I... care about you. But I've got no claim on you. Not really. I'm not going to tell you what you should do with your life."

That stung a little, although she wasn't sure why and she wasn't happy about it.

"If you go back to First Recon are you going to get a hard time because of working with me?" she asked.

Boone laughed quietly. "Probably. If we make it."

"If we make it," she repeated. She wasn't really scared any more, just comfortable. Warm. "I'm sorry for being-"

"Don't say it," he said. "It doesn't matter."

She smiled sadly at the ceiling. "Thanks for coming with me. And for everything. And no 'last stand' heroics tomorrow, okay? I'll be watching you."

He came over and sat on the bed so she could see him.

"Same goes for you," he said. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek softly. "Get some sleep."

He left.

* * *

It was just before dawn, the air sharp with the night's chill. Raul had gone by the time the Courier had woken up, which came as no surprise really. He had, however left ED-E, fixed, lying on the kitchen table, ready to be switched back on. True to his word, Benny had left a contingent of securitrons gathered outside Freeside's east gate. It was headed by the slightly creepy securitron she'd met yesterday in Benny's apartment, but at least she could tell it what to do.

The rest of her friends were gathered in a small group.

"I kind of used up all my speech material last night," she said. "So, uh, be careful, let the robots go first, look out for each other and try not to get shot." She shrugged. "Lets go."

They left.


	23. And Maybe I'll Say Maybe

To be honest I was kind of going to skip this bit because

a) you all know how it goes anyway, and

b) I am a very poor writer of action sequences.

But that's kind of anticlimactic, isn't it?

When I first realised that this was going to turn into a story rather than a bunch of mildly associated one-shots I had the idea that the Courier/Boone relationship was going to be all Cathy/Heathcliff and they'd both be really self-destructive and bad for each other and everyone around them. But that's not how it turned out. It would probably take a better writer than me to pull that off. :(

Also GOD I love seeing where my readers are coming from. Thank you, Polish reader (and everyone else).

ALSO also I am beginning to see why authors get to this point and decide that they need to rewrite EVERYTHING. But we'll be pressing on.

* * *

As they approached the Dam, they could hear the sound of explosive shelling, muffled by the mountain ridge. The Courier had been thinking of how best to lay out her forces the whole way down, going through different scenarios, and the only thing she was completely sure of was that she didn't know what on earth to do with Cass. While Cass had no end of enthusiasm, the Courier doubted she could stand up to wave after wave of Legion forces. She was good in the mid-to-back range, but the Courier couldn't figure out how to use her on a long, clear expanse like the Dam.

"Stop!" she called, as the road curved up to the dam. The noise of battle was a lot louder now, and she had to shout in order to be heard.

"Let's split the robots, half at the front to advance and half at the back to keep using missiles for cover. Veronica and Lily, you're right behind the first group. Cass, you're behind them, if you're having trouble climb the guard towers and shoot from there. Boone and I are going to cover you guys from that ridge." She pointed. "And we'll catch up at the end of the Dam."

Her eyes flicked between the three, fighting back the urge to ask them if her plan was alright.

She hugged Cass and then Lily, and then Veronica, awkwardly because of her power armour. "Take care, girls," she said. "See you at the finish line."

Cass grinned. "Fortune and glory," she said, and winked before she turned to follow the other two.

Boone and the Courier made their way to the ridge. The air was red with dust and already thick with smoke. She hoped there would be enough visibility to cover her friends as they moved along the Dam.

A loud buzzing noise made her turn around. Something was flying towards them through the haze, something huge, and she dropped to the ground as it flew overhead.

"The fuck _is_ that?" She looked up from the ground.

"The Boomers," said Boone, offering her a hand up. "It's the bomber."

She watched from the ground as it flew low over the Dam. It seemed to almost skim the tops of the heads of the soldiers fighting beneath, then pulled up at the last minute. Balls of flame blossomed in the enemy ranks. She stared at the bomber as it banked, circling back for another run.

"We need to keep moving." Boone was getting impatient. "We need to be in place by the time the securitrons hit Legion troops." She followed him, still staring at the plane. She'd been to McCarran, and even seen the same bomber in the Hangar up at Nellis, but she still couldn't imagine a sky full of them. Vertibirds were rare enough.

They reached the peak and dropped to the ground, lying flat. Through her scope she watched the securitrons advancing, around clusters of soldiers.

The first wave of securitrons caused a lot of damage, but also took a lot of damage. Legion soldiers weren't stupid, and despite the upgrades, the wheels were still largely unprotected. The securitrons fell, and then, lacking any mechanism to get upright again, became stuck, falling on top of each other and forming barricades, mountains of steel that the Legion could climb over, but the securitrons couldn't navigate.

The first crack of the anti-materiel rifle next to her made her flinch. She tracked Veronica, who was wading into the Legion forces, power armour nearly impervious to bullets and hardly even scratched by machetes. Lily was close behind, cutting down huge swathes of men with each swing of her blade. The Courier picked off a soldier who had gotten behind her and was hauling his arm back for a strike with a machete, then moved on to Cass. She'd taken the Courier's advice, and had climbed a guard tower, using the different angle to aim around the pile of securitrons now cluttering the Dam. Cass would be fine as long as the enemy didn't make a push forward and leave her stranded in a sea of crimson, having to find her own way down through the inside of the Dam. Shit. She bit her lip and hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Another bomb, dropped from the plane, blew the mountain of securitrons apart. Had that been on purpose? She crawled forwards on knees and elbows. Aim for the leaders. The ones with the full-face masks and the feathers. And the plumed helmets, like the one she kept on her computer table, but there weren't as many of those.

Her hands were shaking as she shot. Tried to shoot. She was a lot slower than Boone, who it seemed barely needed to aim. The Courier had to track each target, and even with her armour-piercing ammunition struggled to put them down.

The advance was slow but constant, and soon they'd have to reposition further to keep the enemy in sight. She watched her friends through her scope, feeling powerless at being so far away, like she was almost cheating by staying so far away from the battle. Veronica: doing well. Fuck, she's a goddamn one-person army. Lily: great. The Legion's insistence on human-only troops seemed to be working against them, with many soldiers visibly terrified by the hulking monster in their midst. Cass: seemed to be doing oka- fuck! The Courier fired at the Legion soldier crawling out of the hatch down behind Cass. She missed, but Cass heard the whine of the bullet or the ricochet as it bounced off the concrete, and turned to shoot the legionnaire in the head. The Courier watched her turn to her and wave nonchalantly. Shit. Legion was inside the Dam already? With so few NCR soldiers up top, they must be having a hell of a time down there.

The Courier lowered her rifle. They were too far away, now. Couldn't see past the curvature of the Dam. She stood.

"We gotta keep moving."

"Yeah. Where to?" Boone looked out over the Dam. "Guard tower?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess so. The third one along? We'll meet up with Cass."

He nodded.

They skidded down the slope to the Dam, and ran, bent almost double, to the guard tower. A shout from below signalled a hail of bullets as she reached the top of the tower behind Boone. She dived to the ground.

"Hey," said Cass, lying flat. Her voice was raised over the gunfire and shouting below. "Get lonely back there?"

The Courier laughed, but couldn't manage much else. She lay on her back clutching her rifle, her left arm aching after taking the brunt of her weight when she hit the ground. Fuck. Legion had been more or less happy to ignore Cass on her own, but the three of them up there was attracting attention. No fucking cover to shoot from up here, either. They could head down through the Dam, like she'd thought earlier, but it was probably crawling with legionnaires as well. The bomber had gone north rather than coming back after the last run. Out of fuel, maybe. She didn't know if the handful of favours she'd done for Pearl would entitle her to a refuelling back at Nellis and another attack.

Boone heard it before she did, a rhythmic thumping noise that you could feel rather than hear, at first. She looked at him, frowning. It was getting louder fast, and she sat up a little, carefully, to see where it was coming from.

The vertibird came up from the west faster than she could have believed. It flew close over their heads – was that a wave by the pilot? – and then hovered over the Dam. It wasn't until figures in power armour jumped onto the ground that she finally recognised them as the remnants of the Enclave. She scrambled up to the ledge and looked on, wide-eyed, and managed to raise a hand as Daisy flew back overhead.

Did one have a fucking _minigun_? The Courier stared. And another had a gatling laser! The Remnants were chewing through Legion troops, cutting them down like grass. The securitrons surged forwards. The Courier stared, gun beside her, as they made the final push through to the gates, slaughtering the few soldiers that remained. The whirring metallic noise of the minigun as it cooled down ground to a halt.

She quirked an eyebrow at Cass, hardly able to believe they were through. Cass shrugged, and they both stood up to see the battlefield. Legion and NCR corpses were mixed with shredded metal securitrons, and the stacked sandbags that had been used as cover were blown apart and leaking.

They climbed down and made their way to the final gate. Her forces were clustered, milling around. Veronica was looking warily at the Remnants. Lily was examining her blade as if for rust.

"Fucking _shit_, guys, that was amazing," she said, not even talking about any one group in particular. "Seriously, when we get back, we are having the biggest fucking party ever. I'll open the cocktail bar."

"We're not exactly finished yet," said one of the Remnants, the one who didn't like the NCR, in what was almost a snarl.

"No." The Courier chewed her lip, wanting to avoid giving him another chance to pick a fight and then leave. "Okay. The camp's through this gate," she said, more to herself than anyone else. She was tempted to take Boone – and Lily, actually – in, and try and take out the Legate without getting spotted, but as she looked at the remaining securitrons, a handful of Brotherhood knights who had made it to the gate with them, a group of NCR troopers and rangers, the Remnants, and her friends, she thought, why bother doing things the hard way?

"Right," she said. "We're going to hit them with all we've motherfucking got. Shoot everything that moves. Let's go."

The camp was golden in the afternoon light. Almost beautiful. She waved the securitrons forwards, straight into the heart of the camp, and the silence was once again broken by gunfire and explosions. Dogs were barking and smoke was once again filling the air.

How did Caesar think he was going to take over New Vegas with such a low-tech army, much less hold it? The Praetorian guards were pretty lethal if you had to fight them one-on-one, but against missile launchers and heavy weaponry they were near powerless.

She walked through the camp slowly, behind the securitron forces and the Enclave Remnants, marvelling at the destruction before her. The securitrons could navigate a lot better in more open terrain, and the Legion forces couldn't get as close. A hand on her arm stopped her, and she turned to see Boone looking up the hill. A man stood there looking down at them, looking like a bronze statue, red cloak blowing in the wind.

"Why isn't he attacking?" she asked.

"Maybe he wants to meet you."

She grinned. "Fuck that," she said. "Can you take him out from here?"

Boone's first shot hit the Legate high in the chest, knocking him back a step. The Legate touched the hole in his armour briefly, almost in surprise, and then swung a huge sword off his back and started down the hill towards them.

The Courier watched as he took another shot in the chest, but it wasn't until he seemed to shake off a bullet to the arm like some sort of mosquito bite that she pulled her own rifle out and started trying to reload it with trembling fingers.

She squeezed off one shot – two, watching in disbelief as he got closer and closer. Boone shoved her back, hard, sending her sprawling, and stepped in front of her. The Legate lifted his sword over his head – but it never came down. He looked down at his chest, at the vertibird rotor blade protruding from his chest.

"You," roared Lily. "Leave my grandchildren alone!" She lifted the Legate off the ground on the end of the sword as if he were a child's doll, then swung it down, throwing him across the camp. He didn't get up.

The Courier stood, shakily, and stumbled over to the slumped form of the Legate. A pool of blood was spreading around him. She looked at the bullet holes puncturing his armour. She turned around, lost. Was that it? The end of everything?

Boone was walking towards her.

"Don't you ever fucking do that again," she snapped. She pressed a hand to her mouth. "You scared me," she said, quieter. He put a hand on her arm, and she had to fight not to lean her head against his shoulder. In the absence of gunfire, the silence was almost painful.

Someone was coming along the path towards them, an NCR officer. She was mildly surprised to see it was Colonel Hsu.

"Evening," he said, with a wry smile. "Seems the General was too busy to congratulate you in person."

She smiled weakly. "The Dam okay?"

"Yeah," he said, but his face was grim. "There were – a lot of Legion spies." He sighed heavily. "I think we'll be trying to ferret out agents for a long time."

The Courier rubbed a hand across her face, smearing dust and grit.

"You did a good job. An incredible job," continued Hsu. "The troops are grateful. Even if the – well. Even if not everyone is. Anyway. You look awful. Get some rest. I'm sure I'll be seeing you later."

She nodded, blankly, barely hearing his words, and stood there until Boone once again took her arm.

"Time to go," he said.

She slid her hand into his as they started out on the long walk back to the Strip.

* * *

Okay, I was lying about this being the last chapter, there's going to be an epilogue. CAN I STILL GET IT DONE BEFORE THE NEW YEAR? (tune in next week)


	24. Epilogue: Viva New Vegas

Well, here we are. Writing this whole thing has been a ridiculous amount of fun, and I'd like to say thank you to EVERYONE EVER.

In particular though: Scarletstar20 for some really decent constructive criticism - I'm seriously re-examining so many things and ideas; and also TONY (the busy mind) who is indirectly responsible for me writing anything at all and was super encouraging. And sylphstarwind, who wrote me a billion lovely reviews. There's probably more but I kind of already feel like I'm giving an acceptance speech so lets stop it right here.

* * *

The Courier hadn't been a courier for a long time, but every now and then someone would drop a reference to it,either holding her up as an example of a rags-to-riches, 'local girl done good' kind of story, or, alternately, as a reason she didn't know what she was talking about: "you're just a courier and I've been doing this my whole life, why are you telling me what to do?" But she accepted it. It was a part of who she was, she might as well own it.

McCarran was sweltering in the summer heat, the air shimmering. The Courier stood in the shade by the doors to the terminal building, watching the soldiers as they entered the compound. There. There he was, duffle bag half unslung from his back, and looking around. He'd looked past her twice already. She smiled wryly. Hardly surprising.

She smoothed her skirt and stepped forwards, her two muscular shadows falling into step behind her. Boone watched her coming towards him, but didn't seem to recognise her until she took off her sunglasses. Her heart was pounding and the smile she gave him was a little shaky.

"Hi," she said. "Have a good trip back?"

He took his sunglasses off. "You look... amazing."

She laughed self-consciously, looking down at herself. Red pencil skirt, matching jacket nipped in at the waist. Her hair was brushed into soft waves.

"Different, you mean," she said. "It's amazing how many people won't take you seriously at all if you show up to business meetings wearing leather armour."

"You look beautiful," he said, quietly, and took her into his arms. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, bare heels slipping out of her high-heeled shoes.

She stepped back reluctantly. She gestured to the men standing behind her, a discreet distance away. "And these gentlemen are Frankie and Deano."

Boone stepped forwards to shake their hands. "Bodyguards?" he asked.

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "I got shot a few times in Freeside and once in the North Square and Benny said I should get some people to watch out for me. I think they're a Kings splinter group, but the King won't talk to me about it. The people who keep shooting at me, that is, not these two."

"Were you hurt?" His voice was concerned, maybe a little protective.

"No! Well, not really. I mean, how many times did I get shot when we were working together?" She grinned. "I guess it's kind of endearing that they still try."

"That's... not the word I'd use for it," said Boone. Her smile faltered.

"Come on," she said. "Let's take the monorail back."

They walked up the stairs to the concourse. The building was quiet. Understaffed before the battle, there were now even fewer personnel here.

One of the door guards stepped in front of the doors as the group approached.

"Excuse me, miss, can I see some ID?"

The Courier raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked, flatly.

"Leave it, Wade," the other guard said.

"Thanks," muttered the Courier, and they walked through the doors.

"What was that about?" asked Boone as they sat down. The Courier leant her head back against the window and closed her eyes.

"They've been shipping out soldiers who were here at the time of the battle and rotating in new ones, who, uh, somehow don't seem to like me as much. I suspect you'll know what they're saying about me back west better than I will."

Boone looked away.

Even in the daytime, she loved the lights of the Strip. Bright and cheerful and lighting her way home.

She smiled softly and took Boone's hand. "Wait till you see what everything looks like now." She nearly dragged him through the gate.

The 'Gomorrah' sign and the girl silhouettes had gone, but not the flames. The columns out the front had been replaced with classical Greek columns, and two stone lions stood guarding the entrance. The sign above the entrance proudly proclaimed "Flaming Star".

"The Kings wanted 'Heartbreak Hotel', but Benny vetoed it." She grinned. "Said it'd be bad for business. Pity. You should see the inside, too, I can't decide if it's awesome or tacky as shit. Themed rooms and stained glass peacocks and red everywhere."

The Lucky 38 didn't look much different on the outside, but inside the place was humming. Gamblers dotted the floor, sitting at slot machines and card tables, and the casino had been painted and dusted and polished so much that it was almost unrecognisable.

"This is just the afternoon crowd," said the Courier, grinning. "You should see it when it really gets busy."

She turned to her bodyguards. "Hey, I'm good here for a bit. You guys stay down here, order anything, do what you like. You know how it goes. I'll come find you later."

Benny stepped out of the elevator as Boone and the Courier approached it.

"Baby," he greeted her expansively. "You should smile more often, it lights up your whole face. Sorry I can't stay to chat with you kids right now, I gotta go talk to some NCR cat about these goddamn brownouts we've been having. Strange how it never seems to affect the embassy, right? They tell me it's their backup generators, but you know what? Bull. Shit." He shook Boone's hand with both of his own. "Good to see you again. Enjoy New Vegas." And with that, he was gone.

"Fucker's a natural-born politician," said the Courier, watching him fondly as he crossed the floor. "Five'll get you ten that If we ever get these mythical 'elections' that Arcade's always talking about set up, these people are gonna vote him right back in."

She stepped into the elevator and turned a key that lit the penthouse button up. She pressed it.

"Oh," she said, turning to Boone. "I kind of assumed you're staying with me. I mean, Benny's got the old presidential suite and I took House's old room because of the view, but, uh, the other hotel floors are open now, so you don't have to-"

He pushed her up against the wall of the elevator and kissed her. She melted against him, but then started struggling.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I've got a deactivator key for the elevator," she said breathlessly, cheeks pink.

He smiled.

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the top floor, slightly dishevelled.

"We can probably blame elevator delays on the NCR power supply," said the Courier, trying to fix her hair. "Anyway, you've been up here before, right? I had the computer area partitioned off so Benny can get to it without me if he has to, but the rest is mine."

Boone dropped his bag on one of the sofas near the bed. "Yeah, you took us all up here not long before the battle."

He looked out the windows at the mountain range.

"There aren't any curtains so you do get woken up pretty early. But I think it's worth it for the sunrises," said the Courier.

Boone laughed quietly. "I can see that goddamn dinosaur from here."

She smiled. "So how's active duty been treating you? How's Betsy? Has Ten of Spades made it to Jack yet?"

"It's been... good," he said, still looking out the window. "Really good. I feel like – I don't know. Like I'm doing the right thing." He turned to face her. "Betsy's doing well. She asks about you a lot. Mostly questions I'm not going to repeat."

The Courier laughed. "Shit. I love that girl."

"And Ten of Spades is still Ten of Spades, but he took out a cell of Jackals almost on his own, so he's in line for a name change any day now."

"That's great," said the Courier, smiling. "I'm really glad."

He looked at her, a long, measuring gaze that made her feel nervous somehow.

"Are you happy here?" he asked.

"Yes," she said brightly. "Of course." She started rearranging the cushions on the sofa. "Why don't I show you around Freeside? It looks a lot – well, a little bit different. And Arcade's there. No one else is in town though. Cass is out in New Reno at the moment renewing contracts, and Ronnie – uh, Veronica – is up at Nellis on kind of a tech research thing." She shrugged. "And Lily's gone back to her bighorners. Do you know, the last time I talked to her she asked me why I was calling her grandma?" she smiled without much humour and with some confusion. "I just – I don't know, it's probably a good thing really."

Boone was watching her still. She tried to match his gaze, but couldn't. She looked away.

"Maybe tomorrow," he said.

" Okay," she said, cautiously. "Well, how about we go down to the cocktail lounge? I had the windows fixed and a dancing floor put in."

"How about," he said, "you sit down on this couch with me and tell me what's really going on."

Her shoulders slumped. "Fuck."

She sank down into the sofa, leaning her elbows on her knees. Boone sat down next to her. She shuffled over slightly so their legs touched. Now that he was here, it was almost painful to not be physically touching him.

"Everything's so fucking hard," she said. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't everyone fighting me for goddamn everything I try to do. Like... I got a couple of Auto-Docs for the Followers, right – getting the electricity hooked up was such a fucking nightmare. Everyone in Freeside complained. Everyone! They said it was taking power away from existing residents and merchants."

Boone put a hand on her back, and she leaned back against him gratefully. His warmth was reassuring and comforting and everything she'd missed.

"And meetings, all the time. Everything involves so much talking before anything can happen. Even when it's really obvious what the best choice is." She sighed. "Getting the fiends and the deathclaws off the I-15 was the simplest thing I've actually managed to do and it took like two months to organise. _And_ I didn't get to go along."

She laughed. "I thought things were going to be easy. Well, not easy, exactly, but not _this hard_. And I miss having everyone around all the time. I guess I'm... lonely. Maybe. Lonely and bored. In New Vegas, ha. I can't believe I'm actually complaining about this," she scoffed. "Oh no, I have too much money and influence, and I never have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. How hard my life is." She curled her lip in disgust.

He wrapped strong arms around her. She ran her fingertips over his muscles lightly.

"I've missed you so much," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. He pressed a kiss to her temple in response.

"I think what you need is a break. Change of scenery," he said, at last.

She sat up and turned to face him. "Holy shit, is this the bit where you hold me to that promise I made about the Legion-hunting safari?"

He laughed. "I'd forgotten about that. But no, this is... something else." He looked down at the rug that covered the hard wooden floor, and then back up at her. "Back west, we've been hearing rumours about treasure at... some sort of deserted resort town. The Sierra Madre." He stood, and turned on the radio, retuned it. A woman's voice came from the speaker. _Begin again._

The Courier frowned. "You think I should just drop everything for a while and go adventuring? I mean, it's tempting as fuck, but-"

"I didn't mean for you to go on your own," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, come on, this is your _leave_. I can't ask you to use all of that up just because I'm _bored_."

He paused. "I don't like not having something to do," he said. "If I wasn't here I'd probably out in the wastelands hunting something. Legion. Slavers. Deathclaws." He shrugged. "I don't know how long it'll take to find this place. I've got a month off right now. That should be long enough."

"Okay," said the Courier. "Okay. Fuck." She stood up. "I'll have to get some things set up before we go – Benny can probably handle most things here for a while. Do you think we could bring the others that are here? Arcade's pretty swamped with governance stuff at the moment. And Cass doesn't get back for another month at least. Ronnie? I could send a runner up to get her." Her heart was pounding. "I just – I... thank you," she said, covering her mouth with both hands. "This is... amazing. You're amazing. I can't even believe it."

Boone shifted uncomfortably. "It's... not really a big deal," he said.

She bit her lip, tried to calm down, but a grin escaped.

"Okay," she said. "Well. Let me take you down to the cocktail lounge. I won't even make you dance."

"Now that's a promise I'm going to hold you to," he said. His smile made her heart flutter. She took his arm, and led him back to the elevator. This was going to be _awesome_.

* * *

Oh YES I DID. See you soon.

edit: Sequel to this is now complete! Titled _When You Come to the End of the Day. _And the sequel to that(?) has just begun, and that one is currently called _Viva New Vegas_. I'd simply love it if you read them as well. Thanks again :) this has been so much fun.


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